Perfect: A Fibonacci Poem
Location
My
Hair
Is not
Always in
Its commanded place.
My skin is never quite so clear.
I know my "heartfelt" smile may not constantly be true.
The liveliness in my eyes can be forced. The tilt of my head always has a motive.
The only true pictures, where none of this matters, are the ones with my most cherished friend, for when we are together we are only perfect.