Just in me, perfection

There was one,

very dear, who sought

in me, perfection.

When else-times, she could find

in herself and embrace oh so well;

so much, a compassionate soul.


All those nearly lost dogs,

damaged children,

endless grey graduated days

and other odd shaped concepts;

super-marketed vegetables,

wrapped misshape seconds.


For she, was a deep thinker too.

Just so, like me,

but loved not oddly.

In her very particular way,

perhaps too much,

to simply hold the ‘imperfect’ me

One thought on “Just in me, perfection

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