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Puzzled Perfection

What is left after perfect lovers reach their height?
Of jagged edges we all are made
Odd shapes, different colors
Our pieces scattered about
Yellow suns and deep green grass
Pure white snow and dark black shadows
The pieces alone, rather ugly indeed
But...
As each piece finds its mate
A beautiful picture unfolds
The more time invested
The more it takes shape
Until finally...
When all the scraps of imperfection
Melt together as one
the true beauty meant to be
is revealed
Complete
Perfect
Whole

But what is to be done
When perfection is reached
And everything's in place?
Sit back and admire?
Soak in its beauty?
Relish the hard work,
The time spent figuring things out?
Glue it together for the world to see?
Tear it apart to start another?

Loving relationships are like the puzzle
To live and learn and grow into one
But when its reached perfection
What then? What is to be done?
What
is
to
be
done?
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