Orchid
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Oh, please ...
Do not pay minutes
To the bandit called Perfection -
A more enigmatic siren does not now exist,
Still, even in her most beguiling accomplishment,
She feigns not a breath of your uncommon elegance.
Oh, verily ...
She is immaculate, pure ...
But no human soul that breathes,
(Or any that rest in earth, ages hence),
Did e'er settle gaze on her illusory countenance,
Or chance to catch a hint of her blossom on the breeze.
Oh, pray ...
Be content in all you are ...
Your semblance catches breaths,
And the uncommon aspect of your heart -
The flaws and frailties that are uniquely thine,
Bloom subtle and splendid, in the rare orchid others see.
Oh, hearken ...
Do you discern the folly?
Precious moments wasted
In endless pursuit of a phantom, fair,
While you possess all that is real and tangible.
You are the colorful, unique, diverse, sublime ENVY of ...
Perfection.
( ORCHID = One Rare Creation ... Human, Inimitable, Diverse )
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "A September Standard Contest" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2017
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