Listen to the world turn,
Creeking on it's pole.
Like a ballerina with
Graceful moves and poise.
Listen to them all inside,
All soon to arise.
Be a doctor a dancer,
An author, a priest.
To search under to covers,
Of a young girl's bed.
You'll find many ideas,
The ones she thinks dead.
To search behind the walls,
You'll find someone who
Believes that they could not
Do anything here.
To search typing at a desk,
You'll find a writer,
Who would love nothing more
Than to sign her book.
All you need to do
is look.
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