I am an Imp

What is this says the daughter
Is this how potatoes are cut?
What is this
The mother asks
Is this how a daughter is brought up?
What is this
The husband says
Is this how accounts are kept?
I don’t know…

Is there a manual for the Perfect Housewife
The Perfect Mother
The Perfect Human?

I left the beaten track of the Perfection Quest
To let a big potato piece mash itself to size in the stew
To let the daughter bring herself up
Bring me up too in the process
To let accounts tally
Mentally
With largest columns pretty solemn
for the Unpredictable
The Unforeseen and the Let it Be
The Let Do
The Let Go

Potatoes, accounts, daughter,
Is that all to /of Life?
Its all the same;
Cool is the name of the game;
Imperfection is but Perfection
As seen by the Imp
Where Life is not straitjacketed
Packeted
Into bits of perfection
But lived with a merry twinkle in the eye

Watching
Things fall in place
Sort themselves out
In the Big Tapestry of Life
Where moles and frays become
Silver dots and rays.
All it needs is some imagination
to see
the Perfect weave of Imperfections.