Stalemate

Note: The essence of this poem is “agree to disagree.” It’s the kind of relationship I have with my father, whom I love dearly.

Game poised for a stalemate

Where’s your check mate, son?

Think I don’t recognise the eyes

Beneath the ugly man bun?

We’ve been here for two hours

Pawn to E4 now E5

You took my rooks and bishops

I hold your queen and knights.

But neither of us can call time

We both still crave the win

Have neither of us realised

True victory is but within?

Sixty six are my years now counted

Thirty six is your cosmic debt

Even through that smug composure

You’ll likely lose this bet.

Reality isn’t played out on a board

It’s in how we’ve used our time

You went your way, monsieur

And I? I surely went mine.

Yes you found youth’s fountain

And drank from the purest spring

No decision thus failed you

Like clear pearls on a gold string.

The path I chose is murky

No pearls adorn my neck

Mistakes abound a plenty

On this long and wayward trek.

Yet here we are united

Over this rancid game of chess

Strangers not, nor friends

Each striving to come off best.

And now at last I concede

There will be no winner hence

I’ll take your leave and go my way

Accept these, my tuppence.