Once upon a time, in a lovely green meadow, there was a Peacock. He was a magnificent bird with bright and colorful feathers. He was a sight to behold. Everyone admired his beauty. Yet, the Peacock was not happy.
He looked at his reflection in the clear stream, and while he liked what he saw, he couldn't say the same when he heard his own voice. The Peacock could not sing as beautifully as the other birds. His voice was harsh and grating, unlike the sweet songs of the nightingale or the melodious whistle of the lark.
He felt sad about this. He believed he should have the best voice as well, as he was the most beautiful of all birds. With a heavy heart, he decided to go to Juno, the queen of the gods, and ask for her help.
He flew to the heavens and stood before Juno. He pleaded, "Dear queen, I am the most beautiful bird, but I do not have a beautiful voice. Can you give me a lovely song to match my lovely feathers?"
Juno, hearing the Peacock's request, shook her head. "Every creature has its own gifts," she said. "You have been blessed with stunning feathers that no other bird has. You cannot have everything."
And so, the Peacock had to accept that while he had the most beautiful feathers, he would not have the most beautiful voice. He returned to his meadow, realizing that he couldn't have the best of everything.
Once upon a time, in a meadow as green as a freshly painted bedroom wall, there was a Peacock. Oh, this bird was dazzling, like the coolest superhero toy you've ever seen. His feathers sparkled and shined, and everyone who saw him said, "Wow!"
"Hey, good-lookin'," he'd say to himself in the stream's mirror. "You're the coolest bird, huh?"
But hang on, there's a hiccup in this story. When Mr. Peacock tried to sing, his voice sounded like when you blow air into an empty juice box. Yup, not exactly a hit single.
"Aw, man!" he squawked. "I sound like I'm using a toy trumpet at a big-time concert! I gotta fix this!"
So, with his feathers all fluffed up, he zoomed up into the sky like a rocket. His target? The big boss, Juno, the queen of the gods. He landed like he was the star of the show.
"Hey Juno, check this out," he said, "I'm super good-looking, right? So why can't I sound like the coolest singer instead of like a squeaky toy?"
Juno looked at him and laughed. "So, you want to look awesome and sound awesome? You can't be good at everything, you know!"
"But think about it," Peacock said. "I could be singing like the top pop stars while showing off these awesome feathers. It would be the coolest thing ever!"
Juno shook her head. "Listen, buddy, you've got feathers that are more colorful than a big box of crayons. Don't get greedy now. You can't have it all."
Peacock thought for a moment. "Hmm, you're right, aren't you?"
So, he flew back to his awesome meadow, not as showy as before but still just as dazzling. And you know what? He realized he was pretty great just the way he was—squeaky voice and all.
Bright as a rainbow, Peacock stood tall,
Feathers like gemstones, admired by all.
But deep in his heart, he carried a plea,
"My voice isn't lovely, as lovely as me!"
He gazed in the stream, his colors aglow,
But when he tried singing, the sound was just so-so.
Not sweet like the nightingale, singing at dark,
Or clear as the melody whistled by lark.
With feathers aflutter, to Juno he flew,
"To match my bright feathers, a nice voice too?"
Juno looked down, and her wisdom did share,
"Each creature is special, none can compare."
"You shine in the sunlight, your feathers your fame,
You can't have it all; that's part of life's game."
So back to his meadow, Peacock did roam,
Learning some limits make a meadow a home.
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