Bound in time immortal,
framed by bricks once placed with hands
whose duty was an honor,
whose will imbued these walls to stand.
To stand, that is, near sweet ones
as they rest in kind repose,
as stoic hallowed border,
by life entrusted, of time composed.
Time composed ‘neath Spanish moss
draped with love in live oak’s arms,
rests bathed in subtle shades of green
blushing in these southern charms.
Charms that whispered life from home,
life across a sea.
Charms that chance relayed an echo
held in life now free.
Held to time immortal,
where once this fading dream was spoke,
will to dust return eternal
‘neath this Spanish moss and oak.
jaybluepoems 
Nice picture and amazing blog…
Thanks. Please stop by again.
Very beautiful poem! I love Spanish moss. They’re a rarity here in Oz and can be found sold in nurseries. I once had trouble trying to grow them, lol. Your blog and poetry are wonderful! Thank you for sharing. Best wishes! 🙂
Thank you for the kind comment and visiting the site. Glad you enjoyed what’s here. Please visit again. Jay.