The Pot of Gold

The Pot of Gold

I once followed a rainbow to find a pot of gold.

What I found was discards from a long past household.

Behind the gates of Johnny’s Dump,

There was an old, red hand water pump.

Under some boards was a Flyer wagon,

Wait, is that a fire breathing dragon?

An old toaster once held thick sliced bread

And a Flintstone named Fred,

Both leaned against a wood stove

In this treasure trove.

Looking onto a canvas sack,

I found a pitcher and bowl with a crack.

The rays of the sun shown on something

Making it glimmer like a movie star’s bling.

Was that the gold which filled the rainbow’s pot?

I climbed over the ’57 Chevy in a shot.

The glimmer was only a tin dollhouse,

Its soul inhabitant was a brown field mouse.

Lost in the world of a long past household,

I found the rainbow’s pot of gold.