Life through the eyes of a child.

Poetry Challenge Week 64

#PoetryChallenge

Life through the eyes of a child.

Original:

Die Welt aus dem Auge eines Kindes.

Word count: 715

Thin air.

Blazing heat.

And a dry desert wind.

The scorpions bath in the bright boiling sun.

Their deadly tail tips tower up.

Drawn by the desert sand, stones seem to be cooking under the heat.

Just a small palm tree affords some shade.

Below it, dry grass and a handful of coins.

Hidden behind a few bigger rocks,

protected by the shadows,

lay a couple of dozen barrels.

A wooden bench,

a small chest with a crested lock

and a cracked open cashbox of a nearby bank.

Even a wad of green notes are laying around,

partially covered by the yellow desert sand.

A chubby man with oily hair,

a long coat,

a cylinder on his head and a cigar in his mouth,

is sitting on the rotten bench and seems proud about the treasures of his younger fellows.

One of these is leading his horse towards the small camp,

the other already holds a metal cup in his hands and seems obviously happy.

Leaned against the rotten bench,

on which the old man is sitting,

a big winchester rifle.

In the hand of the drinking fellow,

a 45th colt.

Holstered to the horse,

a long yankee rifle.

Clipped under the belt of the other,

a deep blackened knife with a sharp blade.

The beauty is only fake,

for a young Indian,

with a trained ear sight,

who has positioned himself behind a small cliff,

accompanied by his horse,

who already can hear fast horses coming in the far.

Ordered by the chieftain,

the young boy, with a tiny feather stuck into his long hair,

is supposed to watch over the couple of bandits,

who - just a few days earlier - robbed one of their stocks, taking a handful of horses and food.

Soon after their raid,

the strongest men of the tribe rode to the closest town,

to search for the old Sheriff.

The sheriff himself was not there,

as there was a hole in the small outer prison wall.

A thief must have escaped with the help of another and were now chased by the sheriff.

Because of that, the tribes men only found the young deputy,

who quickly ran to the post office,

where he sent a telegram to the so-called Blue Hats in the nearby fort,

stating the latest activities of the long hunted bandits.

With a couple of volunteering cowboys,

equipped with lassos and fire arms themselves,

the Indians found the bandits hideout,

just two nights after their stocks had been raided.

The whole time the bandits sensed nothing,

actually robbed another bank,

in a town further away.

Now the cavalry was finally coming to catch the bandits once and for all,

to put them into the cliffside prison of their fort.

With its tall walls of spiky wooden planks,

The fort seemed like an indestructible stronghold in the middle of the wide desert.

The horses' steps got louder and louder,

The young Indian could already see the Blue Hats on their horses approaching.

They ride through the blazing heat and leave a giant cloud of sand behind them.

His hand held over his eyes,

the young boy tries to count the men in the far.

But the blurry air prevents him from a clear view.

Nonetheless, he assumes there to be a handful of horse riding men.

Just as the two bandits accompany their leader,

the sound of a loud trumpet pierces through the desert‘s emptiness.

They quickly take their firearms and seek shelter behind the big rocks of their hideout.

As the cavalry arrives,

the empty desert becomes a place for a gunfight.

Just as the bandits are pushed back further and further into their small cave-

”Casper! Dinner is getting cold. Come with me to the kitchen already. There will be no food for you later.“ His mom came into Casper‘s room and took him by the hand.

“But mom! It’s just getting exciting!”, he tried to argue, but without success.

Then he quickly runs to the kitchen, leaving his mom behind in his games room.

Just for a small moment Casper‘s mom looks at his tiny world.

Playmobil figures,

displaying a western world.

It was a beautiful glance.

Despite the Good and Bad,

it was still such a peaceful world.

Casper‘s world.

The world of a young child.

> inspired by my own childhood. I hope you enjoyed.