Life is like a multi-pack of crisps

Me and Angie were in English class when sir said, ‘Today I want you to write a metaphorical poem.’

Angie and me looked at each other and she shrugged her shoulders and I said, ‘Please sir, please sir, is that like when yesterday I took my dog for a walk and I was in a great big field and the sun was shining and it was lovely. But the way I was heading the only path out was twisty and narrow and overgrown with brambles and nettles and you couldn’t see the path on the other side because it was dark because of all the trees. So I thought, “shall I turn round and go back?” but then I thought, “Don’t be daft,” so I carried on. But I was wearing shorts so my legs got scratched and stung but when I got through to the other side, the path was quite wide; it was dark but not as dark as it had looked from outside. But as my mam says, “You never know who’s hiding behind the next tree," so I had to be careful. I walked on for a bit then I came to a fork and I had to choose which path to take. I chose the bottom path because I knew it was shorter and I was getting tired. The path got a bit narrower and a bit lighter and then I came to a rickety old bridge. I crossed over and I was back in a field and the sun was shining again. And that’s a bit like life, isn’t it, sir? Is that what you mean?’

And he looked at me and said, ‘Did I say metaphorical? I meant metaphysical.’