The Rainbow

Its rosy fingers curl,
Like the tendrils of dawn,
Around the hillsides and beyond,
Never stopping in its hunt for splendor.
Its beautiful colors burn,
Like the pigments of the toucan,
Filling the sky with enormous chaos,
But giving it perfection, all the same.
Its arch is everlasting,
Like the green hue of a pine,
And you know that wherever you go,
It will always be there, to guide you.
Its pot of gold taunts,
Like the legends of fairy tales,
Drawing you ever closer,
To the harmless believing of childhood.