Mary Poem by Jay Bradley

Mary's a strange sort of lass
Mary's got it, call it sass
She's like a tiger in my tree
Resting on limbs to punish me

But Mary's mine and I for her
Sometimes thinking, insecure
Her mind is a minefield maze
I mistep once, then in a daze

With Mary I sink so low
Down the drain, then below
Mary's fires let me fly
Soaring somewhere, then I die

I hang Mary around my neck
Mary hangs me 'till I'm a wreck
She misses me when I'm out
She likes me there to shout

Mary often has me dream
Mary's often pleasant it may seem
She likes it when I bring her wine
She always speaks of hearts devine

Sometimes I let Mary down
Sometimes Mary likes to drown
She is so subtle in her way
She is winter, night and day

Mary knows that it's absurd
Mary grows with every word
She is summer, so obscure
Her smile appears like a blur

Mary is not her real name
Mary's special, that's her game
She walks with me when I'm alone
She shines for me when all has shone