When I Grow Up

I want to have my name inscribed

Between the cracks in the bark of trees;

I want my words to be the low hum

Playing everyone's eardrums.

My last lullaby will be a roar of 

'Thank you's and 'We love you's.

And I'll close that curtain when

My stories are written in ink 

And what I've made is clay, in the hands

Of every person that ever lived. 

When I grow up I want to change 

Your world. And in doing so, I'll change mine too.