The rain had fallen soft and slow,
And left the earth in twilight's glow.
A hush had settled on the land,
As if held gently in nature's hand.
The clouds began to break apart,
And sunlight pierced the sky like art.
A shimmer stirred the air so light—
The world began to bloom with sight.
There in the sky, a vision grew,
A band of colors born from dew.
It stretched in silence, bold yet shy,
A gentle arc across the sky.
No brush of man, nor hand so skilled,
Could ever paint what light had willed.
It stood between the earth and air—
A sacred bridge, a whispered prayer.
Red at the top, so strong and proud,
Like courage shouting through a cloud.
The blood of life, the flame of soul,
The start of stories yet untold.
Orange came next, a warming flame,
A laughter light, a friendly name.
The spice of dusk, the heart of dawn,
A fleeting fire before it's gone.
Yellow danced like golden rays,
The song of joy on summer days.
The color of the sunflower’s face,
Of children's dreams and quiet grace.
Then green, the balm of life and leaf,
A healing shade of soft relief.
The pulse of woods, the breath of spring,
A sign that life will always sing.
Then blue rolled in, a wave of calm,
A sky-wide hush, a cooling balm.
The whisper of a distant sea,
A deep and thoughtful mystery.
Indigo, a twilight hue,
A shadow stitched in fading blue.
It spoke of secrets lost in time,
Of stories told in silent rhyme.
And violet trailed the arc’s soft bend,
A royal sigh, the gentle end.
The final shade, both faint and fair,
That lingers long upon the air.
A quiet kiss from sky to land,
A promise held in nature’s hand.
The rainbow hung—a fleeting guest—
A symbol born from nature's rest.
No hand could grasp it, none could hold,
Its riches never bought with gold.
For rainbows come not when we call,
They rise in peace, then softly fall.
They mark a space between the rain,
Where beauty shines despite the pain.
Each color carries something more
Than what the eye can just explore.
They speak of love, of loss, of grace,
Of silent strength in darkest place.
A fleeting sign, a whispered song,
That what was broken won't be long.
For even storms, both fierce and wild,
Can birth a bow that leaves us mild.
Some say a rainbow hides a prize—
A pot of gold beneath the skies.
But truer still, it gifts the soul,
A sense that somehow we are whole.
It tells us light returns again,
That joy can rise beyond the rain.
A promise painted high above,
Of peace, of hope, of boundless love.
So when the skies grow dark and deep,
And sorrow stirs in silent sleep,
Remember rainbows bend and gleam,
Where light and water dare to dream.
They live in eyes that choose to see
The beauty in what’s meant to be.
A bow of wonder, wide and wise—
The rainbow lives in hearts and skies.
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