Spanish Moss

Spanish moss hangs from the trees, 

Lilting and swaying in the breeze, 

Like soft notes of music lit by a spark, 

Stolen like lullabies sung in the dark. 

Spanish moss hangs from the leaves, 

Like a dead man’s body swinging from the eaves.

Like strands of fairy hair, gray, green, and silver, 

Suspended in midair, an aerial river. 

Spanish moss hangs from the branches

A story of stranded dreams, lost chances, 

Falling in a sheet, a thick hazy wall, 

A gray-green stream, a slow waterfall. 

Spanish moss hangs from my fingers, 

Years after, the memory still lingers, 

Ethereal, silvery wisps of light 

Now gone forever into the night.