Rainbows 2
I thought that rainbows had it made
and so thought to become one,
reborn after storms, never sad,
and promising, if not fun,
a brighter future.
A creature
of the sky
with a pot of gold
at my
end, I
would reach a mile
or two
and you
would smile.
But no one in the world can hold
a rainbow. What is more,
a rainbow’s really only vapor,
more ephemeral than paper.
And unlike rainbows, I grow old,
as does a metaphor.
So I’m bringing you this ray
o f c h e e r
to make you feel warm
and, through a waning
refracted light,
now that it’s stopped raining,
think of a clearer clime,
a less tempestuous time,
that might
be
headed your way
one day
after me.
But right
now it’s late afternoon,
and a night
storm
is coming soon—
my
cue
to
d i s a p p e a r .