SilverStorm

I wrote this poem for a class grade. We were supposed to write about our "happy place." Oh the irony.

SilverStorm

Down in the valleys of my mind;
on the left of my serious line,
where vice versa intertwine.
My perfect place you shall find.


Rain falls from darkened clouds,
metal music is playing loud.
Shrilling winds carry the sound,
my valhalla you have found.


Perfectly set, are  my trees.
They go over hills, into the sea.
There are no frogs, or birds, or bees
only magical creatures you shall see.


Fantasy lurks everywhere,
on the ground, in the air.
Down deep in their lair
up on grassy hill stairs.


Fairies dance in the meadows
vampires hide in the shadows.
Nymphs plat in the river shallows
there's a troll named Malos.