They painted over a war zone overnight.

Using pastel colours…calming and bright.

The hills no longer looked barren and bare.

The birds returned, and they filled the air.

The grass was still, but was lush and long.

Those birds above chirped a morning song.

Flowers were painted, where mud had been.

Fields blood red, returned to fields of green.

 

They painted over a smoked filled sky too.

Using dazzling shades of heavenly blue.

Children were painted playing on the land.

Such a simple thing…a thing God planned.

 

I imagined the painting, hanging in a frame.

And in the corner, the world signed its name.

A yellow sun was added there for all to see.

This was just a dream...the painter was me.