The Surreal

“The Surreal” A blue-grey house atop a hill, Molding, shaping to a creator’s will. /A green, hilly peak with nothing below, Pressed against a sky the colour of sorrow. /Grey-brown trees line the ground, Twisted, and tangled with no life to be found. /In the house a light appears, Tiny, and dim, but showing no fears. /Soon more lights flicker on, Enough light now to mimic the dawn. /The light bursts out the warped windows, Striking through the sky defeating its foes. /The once dreary scene, dark and dead, Bursts with life and extinguishes dread.