Angel delight

I have a secret.
Under my bed there's a little wooden box, and in the box is an angel.
It's been there for a long time, since I was a child, in fact. One day I saw it sitting innocently in a tree and I asked it to come down. I offered it some chocolate. While it was eating the chocolate I ran to the house and got some red wool from my mother's sewing basket. I dipped the wool in the honeypot in the pantry and ran back to the garden. The angel was still licking the melted chocolate from the tips of its delicate fingers when I slipped a loop of the sticky yarn around its waist. Everybody knows that angels can't get away then. I pushed the angel into a dirty old box that I found in the shed at the bottom of the garden and hid it under my bed. For days and days it hammered on the sides of the box begging for me to release it. After a few months it gave up. Now I only hear it very occasionally. Sometimes if I wake up in the middle of the night and I lie very still I can just make out its tiny, wragged sobs. I know it still wants me to let it out, but I never will, because then I wouldn't have an angel in a box under my bed.