Perfection knows no flaw, maybe I never saw.
If scenery is any indication we have some good stuff in this nation.
Perfection, to which I aspire, is it always higher?
Before I expire in the mire.
How good is my best, I suppose I know.
Its good, alright, I’ll let it go.
Only best is good enough for me.
Whether it be gold or a cup of tea.
Or a meal at a hotel.
I dislike saying oh well.
Hell and Heaven are opposite extremes.
Must we be in between?
You know what I mean.
The middle way is not good enough.
If you don’t like this poem, tough.
This is my kind of stuff.
You probably know words like mediocre, mediocrity.
How about a plastic covered sea?
I say what I see.
Perfection, no, I have not found.
I like the sound.
9th October, 2017