Ferdinand's Tale

In a meadow wide and green,

Lived a bull with a gentle sheen.

Ferdinand, so calm and bright,

Found his joy in flowers' light.

While others fought and kicked up dust,

In the flowers, he'd put his trust.

Beneath cork trees, he’d gently lie,

Dreaming under the open sky.

One day, dressed in clothes so fine,

Men arrived, saw Ferdinand’s shine.

Chosen for a fight in Spain,

Ferdinand felt a tugging pain.

In Madrid, amidst the noise,

Far from peace and simple joys.

Locked away, he closed his eyes,

Dreaming of his meadow skies.

The arena roared, the gates swung wide,

Ferdinand stepped with gentle stride.

Spotting flowers, heart in bliss,

He trotted over for a fragrant kiss.

Crowd fell silent, in surprise,

Saw the gentleness in his eyes.

Matador, with cape so grand,

Lowered it, and made a stand.

No fierce fight, no raging bull,

Just Ferdinand, peaceful and full.

People cheered, their hearts now light,

Moved by this gentle sight.

Back to the meadow, free at last,

Ferdinand’s days of peace amassed.

Under cork trees, flowers bright,

He found his joy, both day and night.

Other bulls saw and learned,

To the flowers, their hearts turned.

The meadow became a place of peace,

A gentle world, where love increased.

Ferdinand's tale spread far and wide,

A symbol of strength, with gentleness as guide.

A legend of beauty over fight,

In his meadow, hearts took flight.