Monthly Archives: April 2014

BENEATH THE SPANISH MOSS by Jeffrey Littrell

storms sound different when you travel alone
when you’ve been running your entire life
in search of where you’re meant to be

perhaps that place
where Spanish moss hung from the trees in sympathy

does the love we hold inside of us
have an expiration date
if not given away,
does it eventually rust
or crumble to dust

as the words in a classic novel
stand ignored on the shelf,
my love lies dormant.
while the grinning demon
at my side
sheds another layer of skin

memories
become polaroids in an old shoe box
regrets of love lost
cast shadows on the promise of a new day

with the coming of dusk, left hoping
that the comfort from her breast
might return me to the place I was before

beneath the Spanish moss

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