I can’t touch the curve of a rainbow
or use its’ colors to paint
or count the rain until it stops
Don’t be silly
But my heart is a foolish thing sometimes
and it thinks: “All you have to do is try.
The first thing you must do is reach.”
I felt the tender hues of your curves
as I tossed my umbrella aside,
counting all the rain I could, without fear
With wet reflections all around us
awash in swirling, bouncing colors
we began painting from this palette
so many stories without end
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Author:
Michael Anthony (
Offline) - Published: August 15th, 2021 14:07
- Comment from author about the poem: We are not afraid of new love. We are afraid of old pain. - Anon
- Category: Love
- Views: 58
- Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses, rebmasters, L. B. Mek, Accidental Poet.
Offline)
Comments6
Such a Beautiful poem. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you!
A very beautiful poem Michael.
Appreciate the visit - thanks!
Good words Michael, may those colours forever bring beauty to our lives.
Andy
Thank you brother - be well!
Good write Michael.
Appreciate the comment, and your time!
beautiful!
thanks for sharing, dear poet
Thank you L.B.!
Well penned Michael. Interestingly, today I had the thought, what makes the rainbow shape like that of an arc?
I'm sure a scientist could explain this phenomenon very succinctly for us, but this would likely suck all the poetry out of it, LOL!
Oh I don't know about that. I'm sure one of us could find a poem lurking within it. 😊
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