In my world, the clouds of sugar empty coffee rain,
On to roads of cinnamon pavings,
Trees of cloves and nutmeg houses.
In my world,
The world's a village,
Narrow-mind a deadly sin,
Every person minds their mouth,
And minds what they are getting in.
In my world,
The world's a library,
And every word is treasured gold,
Printed page or ink hand written,
Stories waiting to be told.
In my world,
The world's a tale,
Tale yearning to unfold.
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