Rainbows For Chloe Poem by Taylor Rosewood

We're standing in a meadow
when the sun begins to sink,
beside the lazy river,
where pretty fish like to sleep.

We've followed the lights of Pisces
to the edge of a starlit pool,
and as the sun appears again
brown trout begin to school.

Blue skies above look heavenly,
but we've come for the rainbow kind,
and the river's depths look colorless,
and rainbows are hard to find.

So driven down the trail,
to the shores of an alpine lake,
we're examining old lures
when dark clouds begin to break.

But we're not going home,
there's still more lake to fish,
and rain just makes things wet,
and the rocks we sit on slick.

'Maybe they're at the dam.'
says my determined little daughter,
but lightning forks can skewer,
and they're reflected in the water.

Nevertheless I follow,
and we sit down on wet cement,
with our backs against the wall,
wishing we had a tent.

Yet soon the rain lets up,
and there's a rainbow to the east.
There's something on Chloe's line,
and it's a rainbow, long and sleek.