Monday, 19 August 2013


Dear Shakespeare, 
I wrote a poem the other day. Well perhaps not a poem as much as a short jumble of prose.  It was inspired by a group of youths chasing around in the lush green of a creek behind my house. Alas, this is my attempt at a poem:

To be a tween
To frolic in neon brights
Heart set a flutter 
At the sight of a wink or a smile
Set against the dull glow of a pixelated screen
To be a tween
Heart so full with the bittersweet strength of youth
And the sacred promise of  a perfect adolescence

I am fifteen now
I feel akin to a downtrodden house mat
What ever happened to my promise of a perfect adolescence?
Did I leave it in the washing machine  for an hour too long?  

What do you think? Too angsty? Tooo melodramatic? Oh well it's how I felt

Truly Mary, 

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