Paint

It’s a bleak and wet day,
Dripping droplets diving
To fight hard to stay
In a puddle, still thriving
For hours, even a day

Attention leaves the wet patch
Except for the disdainful glance
Of two children, playing catch
Unnoticed is the rippling dance
As falling drops of water attach

But the silent artists remain
Away from the public eye.
Away from all of the disdain.
So they softly paint the sky
With feathers, not a single stain.

And so appears the arc, near and far,
Beautiful, bedazzling, perfection to all.
So it rests, the rainbow by a star,
Standing higher than anything, tall,
Towering over paths of dirt and tar.

And who created it?
Why, the droplets did.

Every stroke a new color
Perfect as ever.
Remembered forever.

Muddy water lies forgotten.

*****

Note: I’d love to know your take on this poem! Do comment your interpretations below. This is a relatively simple rhyme pattern but look at the overall theme and punctuation. Just try to feel the poem, don’t overthink it! 😉