Author: Rishita Neema, Class XI D
Decked were the halls in purple
And huddled in groups
Were unsuspecting people
At the eye of the whirlwind
Stood in magnificent attire
The lady no one would ever dare to abscind
And by the corners stood a man
Face turned away from chamber lamps
Unamused by the festive mood
When the songs began to play
There was an unholy rigidity to his sway
Look not where he’d prance
To-night to play a more dangerous dance
Glanced not at whom he moved with to the melody
Had perhaps found more fascinating eyes to see
And whence began the toast
He engaged in slight fancy talking
Slip in not words but hemlock blood
Through clear glass one cannot pass
So instead he left his impressions on it
Then faded from the light of transiently happy faces
Into a hidden town painted in red
He nods and says, “the deed is done.”
To a man looking of greater importance
Who reports to someone else
Soon enough they heard a cry
And rampage outpouring from the tower
So horrifying! The Queen had died
Showing symptoms of old age
Left was no one to hold the reins of the reign
A moment later, the royal examiner
Steps into the room too
And they all raise a chalice
To the one on the makeshift throne
Who announced that people were the true weapons
To choose wisely who to silence and who to caress
And then they went on with their party downstairs.
