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