Perfection Is Unattainable Poem by Victor Cruickshank
Perfection Is Unattainable
Here as I sit, as I await summer.
I hear voices, "We want summer."
Winter is too cold, but summer is too hot.
Spring is nice, but I must be in school.
Fall is perfect but school begins.
Which season is the best?
I say to myself, I will work like the ant.
But the ants need no rest.
It has no brain and it does not sweat.
It is not tired, I am human, and so I do what I can.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/16/2024 1:35:17 PM # 1.0.0.1119
