The Odds Are Phenomenal (Either For Or Against) -3/23/05

My glasses, having from their rosy state
Been shocked and shattered to a darker hue,
Present a different vision now to me.

My heart that’s once despaired of finding mate
Does not announce its former clinging plea,
But softly hums a much more modest tune.

I doubt that you could all my problems sate
But still I see you as a gracious boon
That God will choose to grant or keep to self.

You are so far, I know, from all divine
I will not draw comparisons I’d rue
Nor will I thus enshrine you on a shelf.
Perfection’s not the thing I want from you,
I’d smile forever if you’d just be mine.