A lonely house stands over the cliff,

on the edge of the world

The paint is cracked and the roof is caving,

but it stands proud, nonetheless,

over all of creation.

The sky is covered in small white polka-dots

the size of dimes and pennies,

and they move like ants in the sky,

gazing downward at the humble house

on the cliff's edge.

The waves below crash onto the shore,

reaching towards the house above,

but it can never quite make it,

and the poor waves

simply shrink back into the ocean.

On the cliff house's front porch,

I gaze out towards the setting sun,

dropping down in the ocean

and leaving the surface world

for another night.

Is this the edge of the world,

my mind ponders?

Are the science textbooks wrong,

and the sky I see before me

ends in a drop-off that falls into space?

I can't help it now.

I stretch out my hand

to grab the setting sun,

and yank it back up

before it falls into space.

But it slips out of my grasp,

taking the light of the world with it,

and I'm left to gaze at the dimming sky,

beating myself over the head for thinking

the world wasn't round.

It's time to get off the porch

before someone thinks

I'm breaking into their house,

But I can't help but look back,

as the house on the cliff

settles in for a long night.