Two herons shivered like dandelions
For the warmth of their love was much fainter
Than the chill of the night, punch of the wind,
Starpricks and other agents of the Queen
Who kept her kingdom guarded from the sun,
Who, unkingly, rose and set in the sands
Of Patal*, that were golden and aurous
And still more colours handpicked from rainbows
The wind poured, trumpeting the arrival
Of moon the queen now woken from her slumber,
Drumming through dandelion herons
And orchids, of colours of the sands here
Dampening their drums near the elder oaks
Still and slightly stubborn in stand slumber.
The keen winds followed the trails of the trains
That peacocks drop as an account of rains
A film had now come upon the vast sea
As the silvery Queen sat on her throne.
*Pataal or the netherworld where the sun never rises
~Ajay
25/4/18
