A poem a day for 2013 - day 277 - Journalism 101

When I was a little girl
There was little I loved more
Than new notebook, fancy pen
And time alone
To let stories spill like dragons from my perfect cursive
I changed names
Indented paragraphs
I crossed t's and curled the bottom of my q's
Because good girls like me were supposed to
I wanted the story straight
Scared as I was to tell it
I was a writer
Of fourth grade mysteries and playground dramas
I was ready for the world
With pen and memory
And monkey bar imagination