Humble bubble

Whick whack whick whack,
goes the echoed sound of flying feathers,
enters a peacock, with beautiful feathers on its back,
giving an aura of air in its saunters.


Another friend of peacock’s enters this great court,
a court not for judgment, a court not for courting,
nay, not even it is for the good of God,
aye, it is the court for playing.


Unlike the peacock who walks with it’s nose held high,
It’s friend enters head a little down,
perhaps it feels inferior to the peacock guy,
already at the court are two playing clowns.


Together the four play along,
feathers are flying, jumping and bouncing,
from one side comes a lot of laughing,
from another side is everything but guffawing.


Cool and with pride the peacock struts it’s stuff,
it's as though the world spins around it’s feathers,
but the clowns are not to be feather-cuffed,
and at the end of one cycle the clowns emerge winners.


Of course there are many rounds,
winning or losing is part of the game,
once, the peacock’s pride is hit to the ground,
a hand is offered, without receiving it’s aim.


At the end, everything is finished,
the peacock leaves, without a bye, sound or grumble,
for sure it feels a bit anguished,
but that’s what you’ll get if bursts the humble bubble.