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