Wednesday, 22 May 2013

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. 

1 comment:

  1. Hey Quinn! This poem is so beautiful. I love poems about that very human desire to be remembered, especially in words and this poem touched me. Especially the line 'I'll close that curtain when my stories are written in ink.'

    So why am I commenting on a 3 year old poem? Mostly to see if you'll read this comment or not. If you do, then I sent you an email about something, hope you see it!


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