Crimson raindrops fall
From a painted sky of blacks and grays
Flawlessly lined with silver.
The clouds part, revealing a carmine moon.
Its light pierces through the mist,
Enveloping the land in a radiant red glow.
Revealing for the first time
Trees of black and midnight blue,
Their leaves shimmer with silver and emerald,
Spiraling towards the heavens above
From a land hugged by Morning Glories
And cut in half by a magnificent river of sapphire.
I sit on this cliff,
Pen in hand,
Gazing out over my Arcadia,
Attempting to capture its majestic beauty,
But alas! No words can ever give it justice.
And no one else will ever behold it,
For it is only in my head.