poems from the sky

Long ago in a mystical land, the elves gathered taking a stand.

The world was in mono no colours of autumn, they decided to paint it from top to the bottom.

It was dawn and the sun was arising, a grey world yet somewhat surprising. The elves from the bushes all took out their brushes and started to paint the horizon. With brushes in hand and colours so bright they painted the mountains, the oceans, just right. The forests were green and the sky now bright blue, and the flowers they painted in every hue.

For Sam

They painted the sunrise, oh what a sight and the lights in the north that were shining so bright.

They painted the animals big and the small, and even the insects they painted them all.

They painted a cloud that was blacker than night, they painted a rainbow then oh what a fright. They did something special and truly quite frightening, went up to the cloud and then painted the lightening. They painted the world in so many shades, they painted the grass - all of the blades. They painted until their hands were so sore, and when they had finished there was nothing more. And now we all live in a world that’s so quaint, all thanks to the elves and their magical paint. Each night the paint fades and it turns back to mono, but the elves paint again in the morning tomorrow.