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I often have wandered in deep contemplation,
It seems that the mind runs wild when you’re all alone.
The way that it could be, the ways that it should be.
Things I’d do differently if I could do them again.
I’ve always loved spring time, the passing of winter.
The green of the new leaves and life going on.
The promise of morning, The long days of summer,
warm nights of loving her beneath the bright stars.

I’m just an old cowboy from high Colorado, too old to ride anymore, too blind to see.
I sleep in the city now, away from my mountains, away from the cabin we always called home.
I dreamed I left there on an old palomino. Whispering Jesse rode right by my side.
I long to hold her, to hear her soft breathing, the touch of her cool hand on my fevered brow.

Whispering Jesse still rides in the mountains, still sings in the canyons, still lives in my heart.

(written by John Denver)