Flawed Perfection

she sits by the ocean side
with a sketchbook by her side
and charcoal behind her ear
thinking quietly with no one near

she looks at the jewels dancing in the sea
and sees an image so heavenly
that she picks up her book and draws a line
so dark, so ragged, yet so fine

for days she returns to this spot
and adds to what she has got
a crooked curve, a narrow dip
resting her elbow on her hip

she concentrates, she erases and screams
nothing is as easy as it seems
she adds a little, detracts a little
shades something in the middle

after weeks of watching the sunset
she thinks her work is perfect
she staps back, to enjot the view
what she sees she never knew

instead of the beauty she saw
she has an image  flawed
that it brings her to her knees
she tried so her best to make the sea

but the lines on her pad
turned so sharply, looked so bad
but when she looked again
she merely saw flawed perfection