His medium-brown cowboy hat
Is pulled down below intense eyes
That sparkle in the sun.
Face pulled into a serious pose,
His shirt is flapping free
Where the last four buttons
Are undone.
He remains nameless,
Yet would be attractive to almost anyone
Of the opposite sex.
Sun has deepened his natural tone
By at least three-and-a-half shades.
Smiling,
One might mistake it for the sun.
I blink several times,
And the mirage vanishes
Before my eyes.
He is such a handsome
Stetson man.
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