Spectrum

The Yellow glimmers, the Red does pierce, the Orange

Mixed in, a wild streaming rage.

The Blue splashed throughout, the White streaks blotched

Amongst the Heavens' Gate.

Cotton balls will slowly erase the progress

Made by brush.

Gray's nets swoop in, to yank

The hues

Away, to fly fly away!

Rain.

Drip

To drop, an orchestra of

Pins, needles

To blast, to drown out sighs

Of wind changing

Direction from South to West, then East

Then shrink, barely audible.

Green thrives, while Violet dances, then Indigo leaps,

The Yellow peeks, Red cautioned beat,

while Orange speaks a rising speech. Gathering together,

Holding hands, they chant the cry: Place us where our purpose lies!