The Eager Young Poet

She writes furiously

about things she doesn’t mean

places she hasn’t been

people she hasn’t seen.

With an A4 notebook perched on

slim thighs

her pen does an easy dance on paper,

hungry to describe sunsets and pink skies

with weary old metaphors.

This looks just like that.

‘The sky today is like the blush

on a naive cheek.’

But who is naive?

Because that pink

is just air pollution.

But look at those earnest eyes

picking up every detail

desperate to find beauty.

Eyes that are not shaded

with the weight

of being jaded.