For those of you (especially those who know me) who really don’t get all this Pattinson stuff (and forget that I write teen novels), I’m posting a poem. This was not an exercise poem, sort of a teen poem, or early teen.
Beneath it all
Beneath the red over blue sky,
she walked a beam, its wood dark
as charcoal; just below it, gravel. Still,
she held arms out
to her sides
as if balancing on a narrow ledge, in
a harsh wind,
pretending. Pretending too
that she was still a little girl, while
also pretending
to be older. To be younger
and older both
felt cute,
like wearing,with conscious insouciance,
a too-short skirt over legs
that had learned allure.
Sure of the man watching, she also
pretended to slip, then
caught herself, smiling in mock
relief, the feel of control surging through her
like growth itself.
She had much to learn and
would have a hard time at it.
Don’t forget to check out 1 Mississippi!
Beneath it all
Beneath the red over blue sky,
she walked a beam, its wood dark
as charcoal; just below it, gravel. Still,
she held arms out
to her sides
as if balancing on a narrow ledge, in
a harsh wind,
pretending. Pretending too
that she was still a little girl, while
also pretending
to be older. Younger
and older both
felt cute,
like wearing,
with conscious insouciance,
a too-short skirt over legs
that had learned allure.
Sure of the man watching, she also
pretended to slip, then
caught herself, smiling in mock
relief, the feel of control surging through her
like growth itself.
She had much to learn and
would have a hard time at it.
ManicDDaily 
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