Imperfect Perfections!

Messy with absurd lines,

with mesmerising formulae,

Filled with black scribbles,

is that, once, whiteboard...

Brakes need to be hit on,

long before it screeches to halt;

With grime smeared rim,

wobbles that old rusty cycle...

Ripples spread across,

not a moment still..

As the stone slightly skips,

off the surface of once clear waters...

Towel hanging on the door,

Books lying around,

Newspaper flying open-

A scene in a house of four...

Slightly bent back,

words punctured with coughs,

knees sour with pain,

and wrinkled skin of an old man!

Messy it is, so the knowledge is churned out;

A plain board merely skives off the light!

Creaky though it is, your purpose is met,

An unused bike is nowhere its match!

Disturbed though they may be ripples eminate peace;

Unlike clear waters which act more like glossy mirrors!

Unclean you call it, lively I do...

That unarranged house prevents the feeling of a barren hotel!

Though his hair is a dyed silver-grey, 

His brow is crinkled with lines of vast wisdom

As they say,

"All that glitters isn't GOLD"

But we must also realize 

'ALL THAT IS GOLD DOESN'T GLITTER!'