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Perfect Imperfection

The house I lived in was like a chorus

of five-hundred elementary school-age children,

singing with all their might.

 

No mention or worry

to whether they hit the right note or not,

all that matters is that they try.

 

The air rings with carefree melody,

dancing and charismatic.

Rhythmic- full of life, love, and passion.

 

The house I lived in was perfect--

in all its imperfection.

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Written by
michelle-e-alba
34 / F / Dominican
Published
Oct 2, 2011
Lines·Words
11·66
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