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Darkened Chessboard

With the night already fallen,
It’s hard to see who is playing,
Who is watching the game
At the little table in the park
Where no one says a word
Engrossed as they are in the next move.
 

Their dinners are getting cold.
The wives they left behind
Are worrying themselves sick
While they dither here
On the lookout for the white Queen
Last seen with a black pawn.

Secret History

Of the light in my room:
Its mood swings,
Dark-morning glooms,
Summer ecstasies.

Spider on the wall,
Lamp burning late,
Shoes left by the bed,
I’m your humble scribe.

Dust balls, simple souls
Conferring in the corner.
The pearl earring she lost,
Still to be found.

Silence of falling snow,
Night vanishing without trace,
Only to return.
I’m your humble scribe.