The Rose

A boy and his father

set out to play

what seemed to happen every rainy day.

The box was taken out

and the table cleared

The checked world unfolded

and your men placed here.

Soon the king marched out with his queen in hand,

their knights standing proudly on horses quite grand.

Then the bishops went ahead to clear God’s way,

and the rooks took their corners,

anchoring the display.

The men growled at the opposing army,

preparing to march and to make them sorry

But their king said nay,

first white must go,

and then, in time, black will overthrow.

So they reluctantly held their positions

as the older king advanced

and then with a hit of the clock

they began to dance!

A battle cry arose

and there were slain on both sides

but it seemed to be vain

until a knight broke the lines

he threatened the king with the point of his spear,

“Check” he said, with a bit of a sneer

and by the tick, he menaced near!

But that mustn’t happen,

Not while SHE was around!

And with a kiss,

the queen left her king’s crown.

With a heart full of love,

She moved every way,

Rallying the troops,

getting in harm’s way.

A few slaps later,

she had the upper hand,

the older king in refuge,

the offense soundly tanned.

But a few corners anon,

and she was stabbed from behind!

The killer: a bishop, protecting his lines.

She honorably fell at his hand for her sovereign,

and what troops left behind did not cower.

But they were smartly outwitted by a more experienced king,

who sent them running with a powerful swing.

And soon, there was nothing more to do but watch their king die;

a laugh of victory was the murderer’s cry.

“Next time,” he said with a crooked grin,

and held out his hand to confirm the win.

It was firmly shaken,

and the checkered world put away

into the brave box for the next rainy day.

© 2007 by Jessica Anne McLean. All rights reserved. File sharing is encouraged.