The “perfect” day

The wind is mild today,

Kissed by the comings of spring,

And upon waking,

She vows to fabricate the perfect day.

She ventures to her neighborhood park

And settles below a crooked tree

Adorned with freshly-born leaves.

She shifts her features to reflect perfect contentment,

Instilling wonder in her eyes as

She listens to symphonies

Of pigeon-coos and foliage-whispers.

She upturns her lips in elegant intrigue

And gazes at the blue sky,

Encouraging her unbound hair

To dance purposefully with the breeze.

It is a perfect day.

And that night,

As she lies in bed,

Waiting for the day’s staged fulfillment

To guide her to sleep,

She is disappointed to find

That she cannot deceive her mind after all.