“I want to be a writer,” she said
“And give my thoughts away.”
The teacher stood and smiled at her
But answered, “maybe another day.”

“I want to be a writer,” she said
To her mother old and frail.
“Not now, my dear,” her mother said,
“For my skin is turning pale.”

“I want to be a writer,” she said
“And share it with you my friends.”
But they all just sat and laughed at her,
“Wait ‘til the movie ends.”

“I want to be a writer,” she said
To the shopkeeper’s son next door.
“Forget about your silly plans,” he said,
“And I will give you something more”.

“I want to be a writer,” she said
To the nurse holding her new born.
“I think you’ll have to wait Madame,
For you might lose him by the morn.”

“I want to be a writer,” she said
As she lay down on the couch.
“I’m not quite sure what you mean,” said the counsellor
Taking a ball-point pen from his pouch.

“I wanted to be a writer,” she said
On the letter addressed with her name.
“But nobody seemed to listen to me,
And thought it was all just my silly game.”