From kings to dictators, political onlookers, common folk and all the like
There’s a craving for power, a rich need for control over body and psych
But as a wealthy man sits, hungry for ability to rule over all
One little girl holds that power of paper and pencil, writing many a tale that is tall
For the dictator sits and the king he dreams
But none can match a young writer’s schemes
She holds power of something those higher than her have not
She’s already won the battles they’ve fought
Her imagination gleams with all stories yet untold
More powerful than armies, and ready to unfold
Her emotions, her dreams, her pondering thoughts
The creative explosion no greedy man has caught
She sits back and dreams about her beautiful books
Dawned upon by many eyes, thrilling to hundreds of looks
Worn and beaten, the cover torn off, left on a shelf to linger
Ripped and old and faded from the ages of thousands of fingers
For one little girl can hold in her hand
Forests and fairies and mortal man
Knights, mermaids and dragons and universe worlds
What no miser can possess, is one little girl’s