The Tin Room

There once was a place of magic

where only a boy could go

and travel as far away

as his imagination

would carry him.

Only a child's imagination

could unlock the secret

of the tin room.

To a grown-up

it was only a room

full of equestrian paraphernalia;

but to a young boy

it was the doorway

to a world of endless adventures

as a cowboy.

In this room,

only tin covered

the roof and walls.

Two windows each

were on the east and south walls.

There was only

one incandescent bulb

at the center of the ceiling joist.

The tin room rested

on a slab of solid concrete.

Rather plain in appearance

from the outside,

the interior, however,

was richly decorated

with saddles

resting on saw horses,

with bridles

dangling from the wall framing, and

with brightly colored woolen blankets

hanging along the walls,

like finely woven tapestries

found in some medieval castle.

Horseshoes,

buckets,

brushes,

and farrier tools

were scattered

along the shelves

and bench.

The smell of leather

and sweet feed

filled the air.

Though cluttered,

the tin room did not possess

a look of disarray,

only of a look

of a passion for horses.

It was my cousin

who introduced me to

the tin room.

The very moment

I stepped through the door,

the aroma of leather and feed

filled my senses.

I knew from the outset

that this room was special.

Those sawhorses were

the palominos to take me

to any place that I wanted to go.

I mounted one of the steeds

as the saddle moaned

in leathery tones.

Grabbing the horn

I stood up in the stirrups

and let the horse

stretch its legs.

My cousin called out to me

as if wanting to show me

a buried treasure.

I dismounted carefully

and ran over to see

what the fuss was all about.

Teasing me,

he slowly opened

the lid of a barrel

as if it were hinged.

There were no precious jewels,

gold, or silver inside.

Nay, there was something far more useful

to a little boy than precious stones or metals.

It was a treasure chest of sugar cubes,

a mother lode of sugar cubes!

Indeed, this room was truly magical.

This would be the sweetest reason

of all for returning to

the tin room.

And a far easier task of

satisfying the sweet tooth

than harvesting sugar cane

from the field.

Whenever Dad and Mom

went down to the farm

I would always pay a visit

to the tin room.

I never spoke a word

to them or anyone about it.

It was to be

a safely guarded secret

between my cousin and I.

We did not want to risk

being barred from a world

adults would not enter.

During the days ahead

we galloped

into all kinds of adventures.

We rode along with the likes of

Rogers, Wayne, Scott, Ladd,

Murphy, and Autrey,

our cap guns blazing.

One day a mean and terrible lady,

by the name of Donna,

paid a visit to the farm.

She was so angry that

she ripped the roof

off the farmhouse

and hurled it into the pasture.

Somehow, the tin room

survived her fierce wrath

and was converted

into living quarters.

Gone forever was

our magical kingdom

of the tin room.

There was nothing better,

as a kid than riding a steed,

smelling leather and sweet feed, 

munching on some sugar cubes, 

and making things right, 

in a make-believe world,

while the rain pounded down

upon the tin roof of the tin room.