In the vast canvas of the cerulean sky,
Where dreams and whispers gracefully fly,
An ink of azure, a celestial dye,
Paints the heavens with a stroke so high.
Behold the tapestry of twilight's embrace,
As the sun descends with gentle grace,
A peacock's plume, a vivid trace,
Unfurls in hues, a dance in space.
Feathers adorned with sapphire gleam,
A symphony of colors, a poet's dream,
Azure, indigo, a rainbow's seam,
In the ink of the sky, a cosmic scheme.
Majestic bird of beauty rare,
With plumage rich, beyond compare,
A living canvas suspended in air,
A masterpiece of the open, boundless lair.
Each feather, a lyric in nature's song,
Whispers of a melody, sweet and strong,
In the vast expanse where dreams belong,
The peacock's dance, a poet's throng.
With elegance and poise, it takes the stage,
A celestial ballet, an eternal engage,
In the ink of the sky, a timeless page,
A peacock's presence, a celestial sage.
As twilight deepens, stars alight,
The peacock's plume, a cosmic kite,
Soaring through the realms of night,
In the ink of the sky, a wondrous sight.
Moonlight weaves through feathered grace,
A celestial ballet, an intricate lace,
In the tapestry of the sky's embrace,
The peacock dances with ethereal grace.
Oh, ink of the sky, a celestial scroll,
Where stories of beauty and wonder enroll,
The peacock's song, a harmonious toll,
In the canvas of space, an eternal stroll.
A feathered palette in the midnight air,
The peacock's plume, beyond compare,
In the ink of the sky, a silent prayer,
For the beauty that the universe does bear.
So let the peacock's dance unfold,
In the ink of the sky, a tale retold,
A symphony of colors, a beauty bold,
A timeless story, forever to be told.
Beneath the canvas of the azure sky,
Where the sun and moon in silence vie,
A tale unfolds, in colors bold,
Of a creature adorned in hues untold.
Behold the peacock, regal and grand,
With feathers like an artist's hand,
Dipped in the ink of the sky,
A masterpiece that catches the eye.
In the garden of Eden, it proudly struts,
Each feather a brushstroke, no ifs or buts,
A living palette of blues and greens,
A mesmerizing sight, a celestial scene.
The sun, a golden orb in the day,
Witnesses the peacock's vibrant display,
Feathers unfurled like a fan so wide,
A dance of colors, a majestic stride.
But when the moon ascends on high,
The peacock dons a different sky,
Silver and shadows, a mystical cloak,
In the ink of the night, its beauty bespoke.
In the silence of darkness, a whispering breeze,
The peacock rests among the trees,
Moonlit feathers, a celestial gown,
A creature of dreams, of renown.
Each plume tells a story, a lyrical tale,
Of the heavens and earth, of hill and dale,
In the ink of the sky, the peacock writes,
A symphony of colors, a celestial delight.
Oh, ink of the sky, lend me your pen,
To capture the essence of peacock, and then,
I'll weave a poem with words so light,
A homage to the creature of day and night.
The peacock's song, a melody rare,
Echoes through the midnight air,
A lullaby to the stars above,
In the ink of the sky, an ode to love.
So, let us dance with the peacock's grace,
In the ink of the sky, a timeless embrace,
For in its feathers, the heavens reside,
A masterpiece painted by nature's guide.
As dawn breaks and the night takes flight,
The peacock fades in the morning light,
But fear not, for its beauty remains,
In the ink of the sky, where dreams sustain.
Post a Comment