Impossible it may seem to touch a rainbow.

The drive through misty afternoon never in-closes on the hues, even as both odometer and clock tick away.

Farmers never brushed leppy’s prismatics when they tossed socage’s gold coins into keeper’s kettle.

If mythomaniac has inside tips on how to establish proximity to vivid colours, closed remain their lips.

Neither have antenna nor vibrissa detected a secret passage to fruity stripes’ lair, leaving the phenomenon illusory.

Yes, meeting mystical milieus may puzzle for a period, yet an era of failures will never drub a passionate’s creativity.

Bring those rays near.

By way of a mirror?

Or, refracted through a glass?

Tilting fancy doodads to reflect on a wall?

Perhaps, parading with friendly peeps?

Blowing bubbles?

What about laundering with too much soap?

Skimming through Skittles?

Perchance, dyeing instead of dying?

Crayons in children’s hands?

Mayhap, squeezing shut eyes too tight?

There are oh so many ways to connect with that which seems out of touch when at distance insists the sight’s site. ; )