In Which I Make Use of Poetic Diction

I watched the sun set over the river last night. There was a bank of clouds on the horizon, and the sun would glow around the edges, gilding the edges with gold. Then, as the sun sank further, there was a burst of pink grapefruit that dissolved gently into a dusky amethyst.
This would be considered poetic diction, which is not as positive as it might sound. Poetic diction is language that is predictably, cliche. I think I edge a bit too close to it for comfort sometimes. But then again, I never claimed to be a poet, as much as I might like to daydream.