Beneath The Rainbow

Reverting  to an  early childhood spell,
when rainbows had  this fascination for  me,
and still do much to my delight,
wonder in the skyline boondocks,
hoop of  lavish colour one can dream of,
fantasy afloat on sunlit  cloud,
imagining another world so bright,
alphabet not needed when budding minds glisten,
to chase that buoyant marvel,
even on a lax afternoon,
is that ultimate peach exploit  we cherish,
especially for those who fancy stimulus,
pot of gold trophy never seen but might appear,
band of chalk-spun phantom’s mirror bend,
wizard plait that spur to haunting pigment,
madrigal for pearl-eyed infant haiku,
or maybe tanka, pantoum, verse
based on enthralling fabulous pen craft

Arc of hues celeste
weave dreams for starry-eyed who
crave earthling peak bliss.