Sometimes
She picks the exact stones and sticks
Scattering them in the same pattern
On the first day
On the twelfth hour
And wait with supressed hope
Unwilling to jinx the smallest chance
Of perfection descending again
Upon the insignificant
With ambrosia in its hand.
2 comments:
Love this.
And I think we've all done it as well. Hoping to re-create perfection.
This is lovely... oh how we do search for perfection which I know is a myth... still we search:)
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