Its bubble-wrapped and double-locked.
The box I put into a room
Where its hidden by the gloom,
The room is down a lengthy hall
Behind locked doors and sturdy walls,
The hall is in a shut-up house
Where nothing enters or comes out,
The house is on a one-way street
Where love and sorrow cannot meet,
The street is in a far-off town
Where neither pride or hurt are found,
The town is in a secret land
Where no-one can misunderstand,
The land is in another place
Where no-one ever speaks of grace
But its very lonely there.