The Rainbow hues pervade the sky
(The pot of gold may be nearby)
But even as the vision glows
It fades so gently, misty throes
Erase the arch from left to right
Replaced by a more surreal sight
The rainbow’s shadow, paler still
Displays an even stronger will.
Then suddenly it is no more
Gone through some celestial door
I sought the gold but couldn’t find
The fairy tale from folklores’ mind.
© Tina Woodard, Medway, 2002