Past Perfect

In his obsession with perfection
And battles to the bitter end
He always had the upper hand
Over compassion and affection

Until, against all his beliefs
His inner self committed treason -
He cried, for no apparent reason
Over a heap of fallen leaves

With muddy feet and flooded senses
He stood under a dripping sky
A perfectly imperfect guy
All of a sudden lost in tenses
*)

Mar 2010