I built a palace of pure molten wax,
painting it with gaudy coats of tree root color,
studding the kingly doors with brooches of gold,
providing a plethora of waterfall dribbling down,
the fragile walls built with reinforced slabs of burnt candle debris.
the blistering waves of sun caused hot juices to flow,
placid reflections of full moon embodied it with loads of strength,
obnoxious currents of wind punctured depressions in its wall,
torrential whips of rain rendered it softer in texture,
prowling mass of mice burrowed tunnels of semicircular dimension,
handsome eagles laid white eggs on its roof,
a cluster of termite nibbled at foundations way below the ground,
a battalion of hybrid horse ran across its periphery,
venomous snakes slithered on satiny floors,
sharp nailed leopards clawed incessantly for instant gratification.
the arduous spells of summer soon arrived,
uncouth light of the sun now replaced the cushion of suspended moisture,
blazing rays of sun god now engulfed it with buoyant tenacity,
stringent currents of merciless wind pounded with full might,
the wax cried all scorching day,
wept infinte tears bereft of traces of respite,
colossal exteriors of the palace deteriorated at amazing speeds,
the savage heat of sun had prompted the inevitable,
transforming the palace once flooded with grandiloquent riches,
reducing it to an ocean of candle wax strewn on acres of fertile farm land.
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