King of the Jungle

The king of the jungle

Can sleep until noon

He wakes up and looks for food

When he sees a magnificent plume

Blues, reds and pinks

What is this he sees?

Why has this creature

Never left the trees?

He is an awe of this beauty;

It's more than his own;

For his orange, blacks and whites

Only gives him the throne

These colours, so vibrant

Like nothing before

Makes him go deep in the jungle

To search for some more

He follows the creature

As fast as he can

Follows blindly

With no devised plan

It lands on a tree

He climbs up the trunk

He falls to the ground

Quite like a drunk

But soon it flies

Away in the sky

The king of the jungle

Now wants to cry

For the creature's too fast

He must let it go

For if it flies up there,

More shall come from below