How To Reupholster A Lampshade

I have a secret place.
I've put in a candle lit, a small notebook, a soap bubble, a slap, the first comic.
I packed everything pretty well, the narrow white ribbon on a blue background on my apron.
I brought forward in time thinking of going right, but the weather is like a kiss on the corner of a smile, as the soul of a clown as my wet eyes to the ceiling.
I was in prison, and again at the start, I loose a bow, I looked inside and there was more.
I was there, in your secret place that only you know.





I know it's a bad copy of the tales of Bartoli, but I wrote it in exactly two minutes without thinking.