Poetry by Jeff Green



by cricketjeff on October 30, 2010.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

At fourteen she’s a lady but she’s still a little girl,
A barrow-load of mischief and a pure unblemished pearl.
She falls in love each Tuesday, finds new fashions every week.
Her Mother almost winces when she hears her angel speak.

“I can’t have that for dinner, meat is murder. Don’t you know?”
A sneer the size of Poland meets a sweet cherubic glow.
But texting puts an end to such a moralistic trend;
“I need some extra money for a burger with my friend.”

She hasn’t any clothes to wear, her hair’s a sad disgrace,
Then hours of girlish plotting brings a poster painted face.
There’s no good way to tell her since she knows far more than Mum
And Dads are always under any teenage daughter’s thumb.

But these are minor problems, it’s the future they should fear —
Their pretty little princess will be ten times worse next year!

Author notes

Not my daughter, she’s 25