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5. The Mowers Part II

The mowers have left an uncut patch
where the riders park their bikes in the rack.

Youíve closed your eyes and are breathing deep
natureís perfume of fresh cut grass.
The warm wind blows your hair and it falls
across your eyes in a way
that, for lack of a better phrase,
thrills me.
Something about it makes you seem carefree
or wild, yes thatís it, wild and untamed.
How exotic you are when your hair falls forward
across your eyes,shading their rich brownness from me,
like a Serengeti cat hiding in the grass.
And when you push it aside
to find me watching you,
you are not surprised.

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