There is no perfect moment Except the now. Perfection slips. Rubber grips. Dishes fall. People trip. There is no perfect moment Except the then. Playing pen. Remember when? In the sand. The magic hand. There is no perfect moment Except last week. Your friends they speak. That coffee tweak. Purple flowers fleet. That newest plant-based meat. Add in some rhyme with treat. Connecticut leaves Past fall trees. Capturing persimmons in the breeze. And yet, There is no perfect moment. There can never be the truth. There is no perfect moment All passes then we hoot. We holler, scream & shout. Perfection lies without. The moment slips from us. Perfection is a bust. There is no perfect moment Except sunny rays’ embrace. Ocean laps her face. Falling from that grace. Bed sheets in their place. Coffee grounds– a waste. The taste. No space. No filing cabinets’ mace. No filler in the page. A morphing rhyming way. No perfection for this date. There is no perfect moment Except the now. Except the then. Clichés proclaim The sword is mightier than— Reverse— revise— your thoughts again. The poet is your friend. Rhyme something with again. Mumbled verses. Digitized curses. Space rehearses. A never-ending end. A sword less than a pen. An insult. You know. I too know again. There is no perfect moment. No moment does exist Except elusive slippage. The transitive into the bridge. The link from verse to you. A simple end of line… So fine. So find perfection So past due. Past you. Past through. Past participation. Over anticipation. Further, till it's new. There is no simple ending. A circular discussion is had. Only words and punctuation. An accomplishment once glad. There is no simple ending. No end can neatly close. No final ending stanza. This may as well have been prose. This may as well have been Unwritten, Unread, uncared, unseen. There is no perfect moment. Have I conveyed this simple dream?