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.
