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