I don't write poetry any more; I haven't since about 2002. This is one of my last ones. |
here we sit, entrenched in a fight we've played all day and into the night it's now my move and he has white we'll play right up 'til dawn he must retreat; his king needs room without it, he'll be mated soon he takes his time - he senses doom for now I've won a pawn my mind is racing - i still persist to dwell on the wind i might have missed; my hand shoots out - i play Kd6 what is going on? with b5 white creates a passer; i'd win this if my name is Yasser; my brain is spinning ever faster could my win be gone? my rook slides back - i'm so unfocused; those queenside pawns are a swarm of locusts - i wish the arbiter had come to show us a move to adjourn upon his rook is well placed, his king will break through; there's only one thing left to do - i'll give back my pawn with Rc2! i fight myself, push back a yawn my mind is clear, without ambition - i've forced a three-time repetition; you'll note the very last position is absolutely drawn i shake his hand and walk quickly away; a devilish question came about today; an unsolvable query, much to my dismay; what good is one extra pawn? |