The King waits safe while the horses dance,
And his men of religion wait for a chance.
Foot-soldiers marching, controlling, attacking,
Castles in the open, preparing for stacking.
Last out is the Queen, spreading fear in her wake,
Looking for enemy lives to take.
She moves about gracefully, far and fast,
Her beauty remarkable, her power vast.
Both armies are posted, battle cries ring out,
Forces collide, neither side with doubt.
Soldiers begin falling, the Kings start to sweat,
Bodies are everywhere, but it isn’t over yet.
Both Kings finally move, they need to lend hands,
For the smallest of infantry have royalty plans.
Together they race, they can’t miss a step,
To the enemy grounds, into the depths!
Dark and light blurs as they run toward their goals,
Keeping sharp eyes on opposition and holes.
Just two steps away, one King simply stops,
He holds up his hands, bows his head and drops.
Far, far away his henchmen have seen,
The makings of a brand new enemy Queen.
The battle is over, the white flag is flown,
At the end of the day, one King stands alone.
