In a smoky room, the pawns start to sway,
While bishops balance on their tipsy toes,
The chessboard's a battlefield, or so they say.
Rooks roll the dice, debating their way,
With queens whispering “Check!” in hushed, hazy prose,
In a smoky room, the pawns start to sway.
Knights leap and giggle, “Is it night or day?”
They fumble their pieces, in slow-motion flows,
The chessboard's a battlefield, or so they say.
The clock’s tick a lullaby, swinging away,
While kings don their crowns made of herbs and rose,
In a smoky room, the pawns start to sway.
“I’ll move next,” they chant, in a circular play,
“Mmm, what was my plan? I forgot, I suppose,”
The chessboard's a battlefield, or so they say.
As time drips like honey, they all start to pray,
“Let’s just call it a draw!” in collective repose,
In a smoky room, the pawns start to sway,
The chessboard's a battlefield, or so they say.
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
