Eyes of a Waterdroplet:

That rare storm
I do visit,
I show my face
Give you my digits.

From red to violet
My colors want run,
All strung together
To look like one.

From the tips of my bows
To the top of my head,
Seven little colors
Thats not put to bed.

We work as a team
Just a flash of beam,
There's no crossing the lines
Only living the dream.

When all is said
My picture show is done,
If you couldn't look away
Then both of us won.