Imperfect

Sunday night in the pew

Turn in your hymnals

To page 242

That’s the night when

I fell for you


Light rain autumn squall

Big things start small

Drops turn to puddles

Soft winds tickle treetops

I fell when leaves fall

Perhaps you still love me after all


Paths cross at times imperfect

Tables turn in ways uncertain

Wish or want what cannot be

The delicate dance of duets

Rifts a gentle refrain

As we waltz in my memory

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