At the Intersection of Perfection
Our spines a-tingling
cerebrums a-ringing
Sweaty clothes cling and clasp
our collective breath, erratic gasps
High up a panorama like unto none
a celestial heaven under a golden dome
Every figure perfect, colors flow and blend
Folks pray the show never ends
A murmur ripples through the crowd
though no one tells what we saw out loud
Right at the top, at the intersection of perfection
one mosaic missing ~ O! that it had escaped detection
Disappointment's discovery stuns young and old
'one mosaic missing' - folks' spirits, bitter cold
Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2023
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