Friday, April 27, 2018

That Time I Rhymed About Peacocks

Shut up.

He struts his stuff with gait like few
Azul and green complete his hue

Shows majesty and gifted-Grace
Can be no other in his place

Solomon's Glory? But mere sham
Against lush raiment from I Am

"Look here!" he says to all with eyes
His subjects gain a glad surprise

Vice she who wears black, tan and brown
And seems to live in his background

None look upon her marked bland
Nor seek to mimic mundane bans

But she still wears a smile inside
If asked, her secret she'll confide

Holds no will to plumage flaunt
For she holds what he really wants

"Hey Baby! Look at THIS!"

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