The setting sun casts shadows of dappled light,
moving slowly along the canyon,
as it submits to the coming night.
Its beauty is mesmerizing in this lonely barren place,
yet, a mystic air accompanies, for in the rocks
can be seen, an Indian face.
Long ago, horse and rider in war-paint bright,
adorned this land, and far beyond,
now, some say, "All the warriors here have gone."
But for one, when shadows glide and gently lean,
his face with war bonnet can clearly be seen.
Each evening, as day gives way to night,
on seeing him, our eyes meet,
yet I feel no fear or fright.
For the emotions I feel, I have no explanation at all,
just a strange connection, with the face,
in the canyon wall.