Good at games

Too good at games,

like an artisan,

woman of craft,

Shakespearian thespian

of smiles and frowns,

tears and gowns.

Too good at rolling loaded dice,

loaded words,

emotion as poignant

and pointed as King Leer,

casting his kingdom into the sea

for a moment of feeling.

Feelings that clash

like thunderclaps,

clap like roaring applause.

Feelings that cry Yahtzee,

settle the coasts of Catan,

crash the riding trains,

sink the largest ships.

Cash in on checkmate,

cornering the king with the queen.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Let’s read a book instead.

In your life always

Even when the volcano destroys Pompeii,

the sprinklers soak through shoes,

the baby howls like hurricanes

or the oven burns through crust.

Even when Rome falls,

Jerusalem sinks under siege,

the store is out of milk.

Even when the lantern dies,

the rope breaks,

the cave is plunged in black.

Even when you say it’s right

and I say it’s wrong,

huffing and puffing like collision-bound trains…

I’ll be in your life always.

Mopping up the lava and ash.

Drying the shoes,

soothing the child

or baking a new loaf.

Building a new land,

bolstering up the freedom some seek,

running to another store.

Burn the candle,

tie the rope,

light the cave.

Agreeing that love is not making you hurt,

not making me right,

not making you right.

Enough to be in your life always.