I’m doing one of my rare re-blogs again here, because everything about this piece of writing is great. Especially the song at the end, which melds perfectly with the earlier verse. A highly recommended read for my Cloudy folks, do click the link for the whole post. – s.u.t.C
The outcome of the weasel bites about
her right hand and wrist were horrendous
ruined her burgeoning career as topless
chimney sweep to the Sistine Chapel
In hindsight she knew it foolhardy to
have petted a flesh shredding carnivore
regardless, ever since that day she wore the
hideous no-no asbestos glove of a pyrophoric
yet had at least found laudable employment
caring for those demented ones best she could
those souls who knew not woman from man
knew not substance from a castle in the air
The day the drifter dropped anchor
helped himself to an ice cold beer
and for some impenetrable reason
apologised for having forgotten his
violin would see her find true love
A bizarre, passionate man perhaps
wise way beyond his lack of grace
Using her sound left hand she
painted his image on a cake
decorated it with cocoa butter
A perfect reflection he reckoned
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Esme's Cloud 
I second your sentiments. I particularly like the topless chimney sweep stanza. I’m speaking for no other reason of course but for the imagination it took to come up with such, being that I was in fact a chimney sweep myself for a few months between jobs in my much younger days. Not however at the Sistine Chapel nor did I parade about topless, mind; though I doubt anyone would have took notice had I. However, we did get poked at a bit for the ridiculous top hats we were made to wear.
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“I’m speaking for no other reason of course but for the imagination it took to come up with such” – But of course, of course, of course, in no way would you ever be swayed (even stood upon a chimney), by a topless female accomplice wielding a stiff brush. The very idea Peter! – laughing.
I imagine you made a very fine sweep, and I’m sure the ladies (and probably a few discerning gents), would have found themselves hot around the collar had you bared yourself to the world on the roof occasionally. nods
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