He holds on tight to
the green with his feet
When he moves it moves
snap the red with his
jaw.
The taste gives warms
to his belly.
Before it was only
brown that touched his feet
A flutter close by
Turn to see the one who
used to feed him
A flick of my feet and
I am free
Her closeness is
confining
The separation makes
that world seem smaller
The one who use to
bring me food calls to me
Her music shows her
concern.
White invades, pointed,
sharp, and wet like the salty sea air
Another green they must
leave and never return to.
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