For The Love Of It

For The Love Of It

Oh my love, she is a chessboard:

A perfect set of little zones.

From the first I saw her I loved

Every pattern that she's shown.

Her files, her ranks, her symmetry,

Her diagonal lines and squares

Inspire me into poetry;

I cannot help but love what's there.

Then adorned in her true glory,

Pieces upon her wooden face

Set with care, like jewellery,

With each accorded pride of place.

And so, complete, she rests before

The players who will set aside

All the normal things they live for;

Now for their love alone they strive.

But this love is unrequited;

Cruel mistress she, who spurns us all:

Each suitor is shunned or slighted,

Even the wisest men must fall.

So my love must be platonic,

In hope the chessboard sees my pain

And gives me hope, not romantic,

That one day I won't love this game.

That's great! Thanks for the posting!

Thanks guys.  Wrote the first 11 lines waiting for a train and the rest sort of came in the couple of days after it.

Enjoyed it...thanks.