Her pious presence healing pain and vice,
Descended down the dreamy stairs,
Garnering many a lovelorn stare.
Keenly eyeing not the beauty but the bow of fierce,
Courage and might endorsing his gait,
Silently honouring the testament of wait.
Tried and tried but failed to claim,
The hand of the princess of charming ways,
As the bow stood sturdy and the target at bay.
The pride of Raghukul and of immense fame.
Walking into the arena, saluting the weapon of the lord,
He strung it and it struck a chord.
Causing the spectators to rise and quell,
The apprehension of the old king and his kin,
A sight to behold, it was a triumphant win.
Garland in hand, she walked up to him,
Into his neck it went and she shyly grinned,
Joy started to float and flowers were bestowed in whim.