I see them perfect. Envy eyes
The handsome, beautiful, serene,
Bestowing on them qualities
That heart knows not, nor has eye seen;
But while I know the folly of
Assuming others perfect are,
I nonetheless persist, because
Imagination dwells afar
Within me, past the merely here,
The smiling face, the pleasant mien,
Out past the blurry brown of time,
Into some quiet lost ravine,
Where I could perfect be. If only
Somewhere, past all conversation,
Neither handsome, nor serene,
But perfect in my
Isolation
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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