My poem, "If All the World Were Paper," is a poem that imagines a world where everything is made of things associated with paper. So if you listen carefully, you might hear some words that are connected with papery things, like folding and tearing and shredding. So listen carefully, and listen out for those papery words. "If all the world were paper. If all the world were paper, I would fold up my gran and take her everywhere I go. I would laminate my baby sister in bubble wrap and lay her to sleep in unbound fairytale book pages. And should she get scared, rip every fear, shred every scream, tear every tear. If all the world were paper, I would re-bind my grandfather, smooth out the dog ears to all his stories, place his younger days in a zoetrope and flush the harrowing chapters down an ink gurgling well. If all the world were paper, kind deeds would be post-it notes that stuck to the doer in ever-growing trails so that we would always remember. Friends would come with perforated lines so you could keep their best bits with you at all times. If all the world were paper, Christmas wrapping foil and birthday cards would follow you to school. If all the world were paper, dreams would be Braille, so we could read them whilst we slept. Nightmares would be shopping lists, because shopping lists are so easy to forget. If all the world were paper, arguments would rustle before they started, and could be put right with a little tape. If all the world were paper, we could paperclip families together, draw smiles on all the sad faces, rub out the tears, cover our homes in Tipp-Ex, and start all over again. All the world is not paper. But whilst we can imagine it were, we can recycle the rough times, knowing that we will never, ever fold.