The stark contrast between black and white,
The perfect squares and angles right,
The pieces hewn from rock,
And the timer’s tock.
The players lost in thought,
The pieces intricately wrought,
A day at the park or in the game shop,
The game does not stop.
It is like a miniature battle.
Do not let it your confidence rattle.
The beauty of the game is in the stone figures
And in the mind games and their rigors.
Play as graceful as fawns,
We are either kings or pawns.
About the Creator
Noah Glenn
Many make light of the gaps in the conversations of older married couples, but sometimes those places are filled with… From The Boy, The Duck, and The Goose
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Tuesday Trickled to Thursday
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By Noah Glenn3 years ago in Poets
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