Often as I skim through social media,
I see breathtaking views of our very own Kanchanjunga,
It’s as if I owned the mountain peak,
That steadfastly stood by me towering over in its majestic physique,

All through my growing up years,
I peered out of the window for its glimpse that brought cheers,

I loved the connection between my friend and the sun,
Loved the outcome of the influence the sun had on the other one,

The early mornings saw the sun nudge the giant peak,
Gently stroke it with its soft golden streak,
And as the mammoth arose from its slumber,
It beamed in a shade of honey umber,

In the day the sun and the peak engaged in a playful game,
Of brilliance and sparkle was each’s claim,

The evening was the best time of the day,
It was simply splendid how the sun unfolded the radiance of its ray,

The gold giving way to orange,
And it’s reflection falling on the range,
Oh it was so beautiful to see,
The orange change to a red Quay,
Red to crimson was again a sight,
Filled me with immense delight,
Then the crimson merged to purple,
Cloaking the mighty Kanchanjunga with a colour supple,
Slowly the purple ebbed to pink,
The blush on the range began to sink,
Soon the sun and the peak began to tire,
And their dazzling game came to a cease fire,
They both retired for the night,
In the darkness of the blight