The Mistress of Word Play

They sat across the table from each other
ready to do battle, ready to do war.
Bad blood between them, had been for years
some undefined slight, that made them keep score.

No words were ever spoken as they played
moving with care their pieces.
The capture of pawns, rooks, and knights
on they storm until the game ceases.

Concentration etched on their faces
Adrenalin pumping through their veins.
A bead of sweat begins to trickle down
At times there are losses other times gains.

One opponent would lose to the other.
One would claim winning's serenity.
Strategy, concentration all mounting
then at last one claims victory.









SultryRose's Signatures