There is an idea,
of the one
who is perfect,
who is our perfect match.
The one who
will be our prince charming
and sweep us off our feet.
Tall, handsome,
sweet,
is the order of the day.
We dream, we hope, we plan,
for the day we will meet
that one special man.
Weddings are planned,
long before we are grown and
Ken is the basis of the
one we seek.
Our child like image of
what a man should be.
Our daddies warn us
of boys that we should be weary of.
Then one day we
meet that one perfect boy,
and o how we are in love.
Until that perfect one,
is perfect no
more.
Perfection we realize is
not in the plan,
when we meet that one
special man.
That one,
holds our hand,
kisses away our tears,
and tells us
on our bad hair day,
that we are beautiful
just the way we are.
Perfection we learn
is found in the
imperfect one
who loves us,
who is willing to grow old
with us and
who is the most imperfect
perfection.
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