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Feb 2017
Sometimes my sky's  the ceiling of a planetarium dome
Enveloping my tiny world'
The moon hangs low-
A lantern for the streets
In our snow globe world.
And wrapped in local clouds by day.

Both eyes in play - the vision slips
and now I know the nearest star is countless  miles away
And Alice- like I shrink.
A camera, carried high sees me, my home, my town
Resume their truthful place upon the globe;
A dot, if that, a fleeting speck in time no more.
Look up and up and endless up, beyond the plastic dome
To endless possibilities and none.
Written by
Mary Pear
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