Ms. Watson held her paper cranes
With tethers made from lions' manes.
She held so fast, and they, so strong,
Pulled Ms. Watson up along.
They pulled her to the toppest tops
Of clouds made out of unused mops.
They pulled her to the mountains steep
Where ivy made of teabags creeps.
This holiday went on so long,
It had to be put into song.
They flew with her so far, it seemed
That nothing seen had yet been dreamed.
Created: Dec 27, 2009Document Media