'Speak to me of things brand new, ' <br />you said. 'Unturned, unburnt, not blue.' <br />And so, to make you gay and proud, <br />I tied your spirit to a cloud <br /> <br />and let it sail where e'er it went, <br />to lands of gold, of backs unbent <br />with toil, and care, and endless woes, <br />whose whereabouts nobody knows.<br /><br />metamorphhh (aka jim crawford)<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bedtime-story-8/
