A rainbow poem
What’s this my child, what’s this I see,
we make these rainbows, bright and rare.
No one watches, how can this be?
How can it be, that they don’t care?
Father please, don’t be mad,
some don’t look, and that’s sad.
Some still wait, for each one,
keeping watch, till it’s done.
No more, that’s the last, we will share,
let people live in shades of gray.
No rainbows for those, who don’t care,
no more colors after today.
It’s true what you say,
some deserve only gray.
What about the others,
who love all the colors?
A rainbow is a work of art
made from trillions of tiny drops.
Arches of beauty from the heart,
free for all until the rain stops.
If we don’t make rainbows
only more sadness grows.
We must color the skies,
till the last pair of eyes.
Alright my child, you’ll have your way,
We will make rainbows as before.
Till no one looks, then on that day,
There will be no rainbows anymore.
poet : Anonymous