Into the Purple Mist

Many a times we feel,

We wish, we hope,

For a pinch of mystery

Mixed with the monotony

Of our routine life.

One such day,

I reached my grandma's home,

Oh! What a lovely day it was,

The beginning of summer hols,

With a never ending hope of continuity.

It was a small village,

In the remotest part of the land,

With its own set of stories and demons,

But still a loving land,

Oh! the Faraway Land.

There were small woods,

Behind her small house,

With their purple mists,

And a promise of little mysteries,

And more to come.

Of the mysterious creatures,

Good and Bad alike,

Of the faeries and the fairies,

Of the goblins, the unicorns,

And the creatures we know,

From books abound

Day and night,

Night and day,

I would wish to unravel,

The mysteries untold.

But Alas!

The Holidays have come to an end,

Without keeping the promise,

Of continuing.

But still I would be back,

The next summer,

With a promise,

To unravel,

The mysteries of the Purple woods,

By venturing into the Purple Mist.