She lies here in the island of her magic,
staring at the solitary being above.
No stars today to illuminate the surround,
no fireflies dancing about.
The trees have been smitten by cold,
bare their branches hang in hope,
hope for the spring,
hope for the flowers,
hope for everything to become normal.
It can’t be so till the west wind plays,
the game that is started,
till it sees the finish line engraved.
Now it is winter,
and today is the present,
she muses to herself.
Making a shape in the air,
she has lost someone who meant so much,
she has hurt herself now so much.
Not to touch the trees with her magical light,
glooming the surround.
Aren’t happy the stars know her,
chose to be in shelter,
of the black clouds dispersed.
she sighs, a drop of tear falls;
she is lonely without the feel;
feel she has been engulfing,
for so long it seems disappeared.
Tattered are her hopes.
Shattered are the mirrors of dream.
Clinging to the moment,
she curls up in deep.
A warmth is spread with that curl,
she checks in her heart;
and smiles out of belief.
The presence of feel,
has shifted its place.
She waves her magic wand,
blessings innumerous pour out,
the trees dance together,
the stars steer off the clouds,
the gloomy moon,
Merriment song the birds chirrup,
no matter it’s the night above.
She prances in joy the whole island.
Fireflies gift her with a jeweled tiara.
Kissing her heart,
she rejoices in the wonder.