White Knight

June 22, 2010
I am a white marble knight,
Faceless, mounted on a pallid stallion.
My comrades surround me,
And opposite me stand the shadowy figures I know to be my enemies.
I know nothing except the checked confines of the board,
And my desperate battle for the crown.
Many times we have been an inch from grim defeat,
And on my shoulders rests
The task to capture
The elusive king.

So many people have sat in the two wooden chairs,
Their brows furrowed,
Their eyes darting to every corner,
Scouring the tabletop for any chance of an opening.
I remember their hands.
The old man’s-
Dry and wrinkled like aged sandpaper.
And the boy’s-
Eager and caramel-colored.

But sometimes I wish
I didn’t have to save the game,
That I could just be a pawn,
Small and insignificant,
Hiding at the end of a row.
Free of expectations.
But instead,
I put on my helmet,
Grasp my sword,
And gallop into battle,
As the white knight must be.





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