By Roland E. Williams


All your imperfections make you to be

As perfectly fresh as the morning dew

And the nightingale’s captivating song


And as perfect as each imperfection is

They lend themselves to create you

The exact woman for an inexact man


Perhaps your words do not speak it

But I sense the burning in your heart

And longing in each pause of your voice


And whenever I glimpse your countenance

A myriad of revelations are unveiled

Is it cause to witness mine as well?


And so one glorious day all this will be done

We will be one as one can ever become

And to forever be indivisible by none