The Perfect Day Poem by Theresa Ann Moore
The Perfect Day
Sitting in the early morning mist
Trying to imagine the perfect day
Reaching for a pen…getting underway
Making a list
This should be child’s play…
The page remains blank
Thoughts can’t seem to get traction
Seems that all tangibility just sank
Sitting motionless…void of action
Instead of moving forward
Visualization is reversing
A physical presence jumps overboard
Into a sea of memories… immersing
Reviewing hundreds of stages
Experiencing and array of days
Yesterdays reiterate joys of all ages
An amalgamation applauded by today
The perfect day can not be manifested
As a single entity
It is constructed by what is invested
Then a wonderful existence is achieved
3/16/09
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 5:02:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Happy is the day we can look back with only pleasant and joyful memories. It seems like aging likes to remember all the unfortuate things too. We just can't sit back and let things happen. As you point out, we must reach and imagine what brings peace and contentment. Your poems are truly always down to earth.