Mary young Poems

Whirling freely across scorched grass

Eternity spins from present to past to future
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Once we open our eyes to the world

Cupping the entire globe inside our two warm hands
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I don't know what I want when I look at you
Tough boy in your blue jeans stance bald and fifty
Opposites play off inside the soft parts of my brain
To make sense of you is to solve a rubrics cube 
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