Embrace
the face
of Imperfection,
not dimwitted Rejection.
The rippling pond knows and does,
as the soft bellow and breezy buzz
of Grace lifts up your fatigued frame,
and Hope hastens you to remember your blessed name.
Thunderclouds of shame garden plot,
and Past thickens like tree rot.
Angels lift you up into the wind,
like clothes on clothesline, you wave and bend.
Your hands, still gently dirt-kissed,
body gliding above tree branches, skirting, just hardly missed.
All in a fantastic flash,
without any unfortunate crash,
you’re back where you started and glanced,
where the Water danced,
and reminded you that Imperfection,
was a symbolic melodic recollection.
The scar on your face sings warmly,
as you bundle handsome roses, all happily thorny.
About the Creator
Rowan Finley
Father. Academic Advisor. Musician. Writer. My real name is Jesse Balogh.
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