Spectrum

The golden sisters, hand in hand
Had walked too far away from the band,
Their brother had not kept to his word
To guide and nurture away from the herd.
So motioned by the sound of the stream
A breeze of music guided their dream,
The smell of the rain and rustle of trees
They lifted their hoods and fell on their knees.
Within the shadow of the rolling storm
Refreshed the meadow and brushed a form
Of streaming light, a coloured arc
Appeared in the distance from beyond the dark.
The golden sisters lifted their eyes
Blinded by the beam of the skies.