Sitting in the quaint tea shop I saw her,
She chuffed off the station to meet the Queen,
Her wrinkled voyage sprinkled with perils,
Ups and downs, twists and turns, yet she glides smooth.
At the wave of green she begins her trip,
The metal bodied coal eater trundles,
Amidst the pines, rhododendrons she pass,
Panting, puffing, whistling the tracks with joy.
Cheerful faces hop in and out of her,
Her cracking blue carriages still bears the load,
Up she chugs to rest on her mother’s lap,
Kanchenjunga, her mother, Queen of Hills.
Mystical hills greet her with myriad hues,
Climbing over mounts, leaping over springs,
She jumps as a toy, The Princess on Wheels,
To embrace the warmth of her mother’s heart.
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