Memories

Mkay, so I'm going to enter this year's western poetry contest at my library, and this poem is what I came up with. Should I scratch it and start over, or is it worth entering? (P.S. The last three years I've entered have all been consecutive first place wins. Does this poem look good enough to win again?)

Memories

Sitting all alone on my small blue bed,
I pull out a picture of my mom and dad
She was all dressed in white, looked so pretty,
There’s a cowboy hat on my daddy’s head.

Two young ropers from the great wide west,
They met while competing for the nation’s best,
And they fell in love, married in spring,
The next picture is of them riding into the sunset.

They had a pretty little ranch sitting off to the side,
The wildflowers always grew far and wide
I’ve got a photo of Mama lying under the sky
With my pa in his boots, right by her side.

They gave up roping when she had her first kid,
My big brother was the whole world to them then.
He had her bright blue eyes and Pa’s dark brown skin,
But he passed away from fever when he was only ten.

The next picture proves that nearly five years had gone,
They had changed so much, but they were still movin’ on.
They tried once more, and out came a girl,
This picture is of me; I had my daddy’s brown curls.

They taught me from the day I could walk
How to feed the chickens, and soon to take on their jobs.
One day I finally asked them to teach me to rope,
My pa readily agreed, but my mama said no.

She taught me to sew, to clean, to cook,
Taught me to read all of her books.
She taught me to smile even when times were hard,
And she loved me when I almost destroyed the yard.

My pa, on the other hand, gave me a gun.
He said if I met a dumb man then run.
He taught me to carve, and he bought me a knife,
He also taught me to rope sheep in the dead of night.

But my ma and pa were getting on in years,
They were spending more time in the house than the field,
Pa complained of arthritis, and Mama couldn’t hold her spoon
But every night they said their prayers under the moon.

I loved my mama and pa, and will until I die.
I want to live like they did, or at least I’ll have to try.
I know they had a good life, I know they cherished me,
I’ll miss them ‘till forever… but I’ll always have memories.
___

Yay or nay?