Hurry up come quick and gather around, before I change my mind
To unfold the path of a tale unsung that belongs to the wizard kind.

Fetch your warmest sweaters or robes, and perhaps an extra cloak
For I heard that it is chilly inside, the enchanted timber wardrobe.

Behind the rags and hung up clothes, a luminous lamp post glows,
Turning the frosty floor beneath, into shiny velvet pillows.

One can only stare in awe, at the realm that looks serene
But not for long as soon enough, your journey will truly begin.

Be cautious and be wary of the ones you tumble upon,
Could it be a ******? or is it a fox? or a cozen witch paragon?

Pace your way through frozen rains until you reach the end,
Latch on to the red lion skin, do your damnedest to defend.

Myriad wonders of a world unknown, covered by wooden doors
Do you wish to leave or would you explore? The gamble is all yours.

With thread she wove for you to wear,
They glance at you repeated
Oh break this stale and stifled air,
With cheer and tidings greeted

A feast so lavish, a feast so grand,
With new allies awaiting
Brisk the smile and crisp the hand,
Extended for quick shaking

Drop your detest and hurl the vase,
Of defeating and mistreating
From this day on you now embrace,
The joyful forces meeting.

The winter cold freezes his bony hands as he counts mere pennies,
While delicious scents waft his way from the grand boulangerie.
Filling the air with chocolate, lemon and even Morello cherries,
How he wish he could try some too, especially the black forest brownie.

He shrugs the dirt off his coat and enters hesitantly,
Concerned about his drab attire, he makes his way to the counter slowly.
To his surprise, the lady gives a warm smile and greets him courteously,
He loosens his clutched palms and drops the few pennies.

"What would you like?" asks the lady as though she sees him daily,
"A black forest please" he mutters as he jumps with joy internally.
She hands him his order and adds an extra smoothie,
Yet all he really paid was two dollars and a broken loonie.

The night grew darker and the babel hushed,
To their beds, the orphans rushed.
One by one sound asleep,
While through the curtain slit, Peter Pan peeped.

He crawled into the hut, silent as a grave
Played a melody, with an unusual octave.
That night had been quiet ghostly, odd and peculiar
Yet strangely enough, the orphans sensed no fear.

The melody chimed like a beautiful lullaby,
Frosty December cold seemed to have vanished, and it felt like warm July.
The misery and sorrow appeared to be ending,
As though time had stopped and reality was bending.

Soon it was morning with the crack of dawn,
But the hut lay silent, as if the children were gone.

With no guardians to search for the stray,
Lifeless bodies left on the floor, stiff and grey.
The little ones fell into a deep slumber, one with no breath,
A slumber that was led by the angel of death.

However, beneath the bed was a note that read,
“Off to Neverland, we now head”

                                                               ­                                                     -Yashaswee Das