Her
Alone, with blue, and sand, and me
I sit beneath a queenly tree
Her arms stretched out to greet the sun
While shielding me, the crispy one
Meant for the tropics, my miracle tree
With plump avocados, and a thick canopy
My only friend, I watch her grow
Some times I save her seeds to sew
I lean against her sensitive trunk
Thinking of all of the thoughts we have thunk
She is funny and fruity, to my soul she does tend
It will be her and me until the end
This poem is about:
Me
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