There is a lone rider in the sky.
I have never seen his face
But, late at night
I hear the ring of his spurs
As he urges his steed forward, forward.
He used never to be on his own
There used to be riders by the score
But his companions have disappeared, one by one
Until only this man and his horse remain
Listen
I hear the ring of his spurs again
This time it falls more gently upon my ear
I look up
As the evening approaches
It is becoming darker
Not so easy to see the lone rider in the sky
Listen.
There is no sound.
Look
Both man and animal have gone.