His saga resided in the
mist sand of the antique land.
Where the wishes were hard to possess and
there were no believers of the magic wands.
On the land of warriors,
where the swords did the talking.
No believers of love and sacrifice inherited,
what you can see was cutting and slaughtering.
Where the cupid was scared to go,
forgetting the power of his arrow and bow.
Where not even a single flower could grew,
so tough and barren that emotions were few.
She was the princess of the land
of happiness and joy.
Where the music and songs were language,
and the culture and poetry was in convoy.
He was tough and was,
not the believer of love.
She was herself the symbol of love,
so lovely like a pair of dove.
Once they both met each other on the riverside.
Queen fell in love but the warrior didn’t have her as his choice.
She was disheartened to know about ,
the poetic stories he told.
How the demonic queen came to the land,
which was not the land but his heart.
Piercing and bruising him,
and making him someone to disregard.
The princess had tears in her eyes,
promising the warrior to bring back the moments in his life.
She brought the warrior back once again,
the right girl made him the prince from his remains.