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Rated: E · Poetry · Environment · #2094569
The bending of light through water drops.
Rains Bow

I view it while the rains humidity grow.
The droplets forming as if on a mission,
to assume hues and lines of colors grand ignition.
It is to your eye, a sensory light show.

To see the ark of bubble about to blow.
There is no end to chasing superstition,
as you are dazzled by beams of atmospheric condition,
causing your mind to wonder off and flow.

While you're standing under the rains bending bow,
you’re at the center of faint sparkling glow.

At the end there is no pot of gold.
For it is never in the same position,
Unless we can find that leprechaun magician.
Maybe when I grow old.

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