Summer Waiting
We played
checkers,
To pass the endless sweating time,
Of summer
waiting.
She was sitting,
Before the set out board
staring,
At the window.
I moved first,
Though it was not
my turn,
She caught on.
I was isolated,
In my stifling
dark spy role,
Reaching out to,
A ray of,
Sparkling
light shining out from,
Her warm eyes.
We played
without,
Voices that would break the rhythm,
Red and black.
We
spoke instead,
With eyes and fingers and gestures,
Across the
board.
The waiting ended,
And we were set on course,
For
terrible disaster.
The call came,
In the midst of one
such,
Game left unfinished.
Years later now,
I stand
before the interrupted game,
I cannot forget.
The ray
of
Sparkling light that had come from,
Within her soul.
Inspired again by a poem that AutumnQueen suggested to me. This time by Jorge Luis Borges:
Since that day
I have not moved the pieces
On
the board.