‘Perfect’ said the Downs’ boy

‘How about marmite toast’ I said.

‘Perfect’ came a quick reply

and, with a push, a magic toast rack

kick-starts time - he nods his head.

No need for clocks, he’s on his way

when chewing starts a perfect day.

‘You’re luckier than most’ he means

‘but miss the move when life’s imperfect.’

A hand is ticking, ever moving,

clocking now with chances perfect.

Perfect every passing minute,

perfect as a melting snowflake.