The Surrealist brushes a green day
A pink sun hangs in a star-studded rainbow sky.
A nude autumnal tree awaits the commencement of spring.
Surviving winter by sucking the life force from a river of red
that springs forth, out, from the corner of a cobblestone road
With a roof for a floor
A wall for a door
An escape for your dreams
Loves expression, a hue of silent grey
The antithesis is a fierce streak of violent gold
Joy emits rays of tempestuous black
From a fluorescent yellow ball of laughter
That hangs like a Christmas bauble on a yonder tree
With a roof for a floor
A wall for a door
An escape for your dreams
Two lost souls make love on a volcanic ash beach
‘neath the waning moon, held in a steel mesh hammock
Casually swinging between the muscled arms of Morpheus,
They both lay awaiting the warming blanket of late winter snow
Which will protect them from the ravages of a turbulent year
With a roof for a floor
A wall for a door
An escape for your dreams
Life may just be a surreal expression, only Dali knows
Should we consider those institutionalised as sane?
The straight jacket of social media conformity
We wear it like the painting's ungilded frame
Should we allow others to enforce their perceptions?
With a roof for a floor
A wall for a door
Hold tight to your dreams
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