In Search of a Rainbow
At the end of a rainbow
Or so magic lore says,
One finds a pot
Black, ugly and fat
But filled with gold.
Would it not solve my wishes?
Would it not bring me fame?
Is it not worth the trouble
Of following a lonely trail
That leads to no place
Known in this world,
But only marked
With the rainbow's end?
Up rocky hills,
Down green lush vales,
Listening intently
To the delicious songs
Of gay bluebirds,
Or the harsh chatter
Of the crested jays,
Defying stormy days
Or blazing sunny days.
The flight from crowded
Crime infested cities?
Is it a prize in itself?
So I plod on,
Always in search
Of the tail of the rainbow.
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