Spanish Moss
I watch her pulse
beat slow
on the white sands
of Biloxi
my fragile child
my brilliant one
her stoic gaze
her soft breath
shifting the tide
of raging seas
her grace
forever bound
to blood
by horizon
my fragile child
my kind one
I watch her
grip tight
the manes
of dark horses
as she holds the
shore close
to her hips
hiding pain
behind eyes of
apple green
finding the will
to fight atrocities
and knowing
neither fish nor
flesh can separate
the Spanish moss
from solid tree
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