Queen Is Here

She is the true majesty,

Surrounded by countless,

She works as a monarch,

All bow down before her,

Nobody can speak there,

They focus on her fashion.

Her company is romantic,

As she is magnificent,

She uplifts the darkness,

That is enveloped around,

She is clad in sheer magic,

That oozes out coolness.

She is home before time,

It seems she had left,

Earlier last season.

She has reached hastily,

With her long strides,

And her magic wand.

I feel threatened,

By her hasty appearance,

She makes life difficult,

All are helpless here.

Starting from cracked lips,

Itching in the dry skin,

To worry over the fever,

The bouts of cough,

Much dreaded runny nose.

She is making up,

For her early exit,

Last year from here,

By reaching early,

And I wish that,

She missed us.

The unexpected traveler,

To our dear motherland,

She wobbles on her heels.

Her hand painting an art,

The terrain outlined white,

She is the winter queen.

Every nook and corner,

Tranquility lifts her hood,

She creates magic here,

It is under her trance,

The place looks mystical,

It is heaven on earth.

She even bakes a cake,

With her beautiful hands,

Sprinkles sunshine over it,

Icing it in frost and wind,

We can not relish her cake,

It is too miserable for us.

She never visits alone,

She carries her children,

She is a loving mother,

She keeps them close.

She moves with a mission,

She gets her wild kids,

They give us bad times,

Their presence alarming,

They torment us to no end.

She is the goddess of seasons,

Her presence is soothing,

It is not for every being,

Her children are snobbish,

They stick to her side,

Like the strong fevicol.

The bone-chilling wind,

The gloomy ambiance,

The unexpected rains,

The freezing water,

The foggy morning,

The smoke in the air,

The morning dew,

The chilly evenings,

The cloudy daylight.

The nights seem endless,

For the homeless and poor,

With no blankets or heater,

Even no pail of hot water,

Or one cup of tea to drink.

They endure the nighttime,

With a heap of garments,

That is torn and dirty,

Their eyes are fixed,

To the fire burning far,

So that they feel warm.

A single soul can be seen,

On the deserted streets,

Only the barking of dogs,

They are the only sound,

Coming from nearby roads,

After nine in the evening.

The chilly wind with fog,

It is the beauty of her,

That makes our life,

Bleak and challenging.

The music of winter days,

It isn’t effortless at times,

One cannot just enjoy,

With snow and rain.

The queen has mood swings,

She tosses weird tantrums,

At odd hours of day or night,

Nothing can predict her spirit.

She looks stunning,

Glowing in her white dress,

The face looks relaxed,

Even it spreads serenity.

When she twirls around,

The darkness disappears,

With the moon shining,

From behind her back.

She oozes out royalty,

With her braided hair,

Snowflakes adorning it,

Sparkling like diamonds.

The winter is true diva,

She gets us goodies,

Around Christmas time,

The holidays and gifts,

Go hand in hand,

With Santa and Sledge.

Every scenario is complex,

Good and bad walk together.

The queen loves her people,

But she has power in hand.

The winter is enchanting,

She is too harsh at times.

One has to bear the pain,

To appreciate her beauty.

Like walking in the hot sun,

To drink the cold water.

She is the queen clearly,

No other season is like her,

We adore her at times,

And we hate her.

She has vanity with beauty,

She is pricey laced in ice.