Perfect?
I wish I were
but
somehow over the years
my edges have become worn
and, at times
I admit to you
that my temper has frayed.
My conversation has been known
to be
dull.
Yes! And my soul
has been tarnished, and
my sense of humour
has warped.
As the years go on
my joints will become still
and my eyes will dim.
My body
will grow weary and tired
and my vision will fade.
Perfect?
I wish I were.
But
somehow over the years
my spirit
has grown stronger
and my resolve
firmer.
I look to the day
when I will be at
peace
once more.
Perfect?
Not yet!
But give me time!
(July 1982)