Imperfect . . . .

“Am I really so?” voiced the rose,

“Withered and old?”

“What about what I used to be?”

“Fair and charming?”

The rose spoke to the tree and the sky,

But none told her any different,

Everything must fade, old or young,

All must fade to imperfect . . . .

The rose finally gave in,

She too was wise,

But now she loved being imperfect,

Now she held her own history.

And she closed her withered eyes . . . .


3 thoughts on “Imperfect . . . .

  1. Nice to meet you, I found it amazing this poem and your blog seems so fresh and new, I know you’ll make an awesome blog out of it 😀
    Yes I took this course and it greatly helped me so I would encourage and recommend it too.
    I wish you all the best with everything and hope to see you around more often.
    Take great care of yourself.
    Idealize was here 🙂


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