There's a vision in the lightning of a springtime thunderstorm,
a thought to be rekindled one cold evening to stay warm.
The sun was drinking clouds away, the last few droplets flow,
and far away, a lady chasing rainbows.

She ran to where one started but just as she drew near,
the first would melt away to mist.  Another would appear.
She sought in vain to see the colors' origins unfold
which meant much more to her than pots of gold.

I watched the prisms tease her, saw her fall and fall again
until the clouds reclaimed her, and I lost her to the rain.
To this day I wonder...and for all that this man knows,
somewhere there's a lady chasing rainbows.

Should her flight be finished one fine day she'll comprehend
no gold nor truth is to be found by chasing rainbow's end.
There's beauty in the doing, not in the wondering how.
Expressions of the future are created here and now.
So in another vision of that bright and stormy show -
there will be a lady making rainbows.