Ah, Perfection
Ah, perfection…..
The ever-sweet concoction of confection
Color inside the lines no deviation
No platypus designs in this creation
Be British, never rise above your station
Perfection….
We’re told we’ll never get there - so why try
Achieving naught but failure till we die
Listening to teachers sadly sigh
While wiping way the tears we couldn’t cry
One size would never fit us all
From birth until we slowly learn to crawl
Neither can one bag collect the leaves of fall
Nor mute the changing tone of winter’s pall
Cold harriers will stalk the written word
Slash it with a heartless wooden sword
For using words that they could not afford
To describe a mud rimmed pond as a fjord
So strive to be the best that you can be
Remembering that freedom isn’t free
And as you etch the page with flowing ink
There is much room between red’s edge - and pink
John G. Lawless
©4/4/2022
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