The peacock

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Majestic, like a monarch surveying his kingdom he sits atop his throne of bricks and mortar.

His sash is purest royal blue, his gown a palette of myriad colours.

Beside him stands his queen dressed all in white, her long neck craning to survey their loyal subjects.

Proudly he addresses the assembled crowd.

His call is a siren sound,

His voice commands the utmost of respect.

Plumes of green and gold spray in his wake, from where he keeps a hundred eyes fixed permanently on the world.

He is the ruler of these lands and more, far beyond the naked eye doth his realm lie.

His reign is iron-fisted and totalitarian, yet his is both just and fair,

His people know he would not treat them with anything but care.

They know no other way nor would they dare to cross the path he has laid out before them.

In trouble and in strife he leads them, overcoming all misfortune that might stand in his way.

With his first lady by his side he forges ever onwards to a future of pure paradise.

He shakes his tail feathers: It is done. Now, time to walk towards the setting of the sun.

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