Chess. Poem by bimisola Babalola

Chess.
The Bishops stand beside the King and Queen,
Saying their holy prayers for victory of this war.
The Queen pleads for peace and she remains in pain,
And though this years long war is insane,
Can she not see that her cries are in vain?
The King prays for one last victory,
For his old age has only made him weary,
He had survived many battles and almost nearly,
Has he not returned home from his great victory.
The knights ready themselves,
For the war that is to come,
For their minds are compelled,
That it is justice to be done.
The Castle is loyal,
And will protect the King at the cost of all,
For he is like a friend, But also a warrior,
Therefore he must protect his King No less and no more.
All citizens, and even the Queen,
Must fight for victory,
When the enemy is seen.
All the warriors must protect their King,
For when he is dead there is no successor,
And all his kingdom are like dogs without a master.
The first move is made always by the white,
That very move starts this strategically planned fight.
The Pawn steps unto the battlefield,
Without considering It’s own life,
In the front line for death like a sacrifice,
As useless as it seems,
It still has a purpose,
But it costs a great battle and difficult survival,
To achieve it’s purpose,
Which is revival,
Of,
A lost soul of one of the Kings Followers,
Whom protected him and died,
But now his life has been revived,
Now go back to your home,
Oh might Warrior to protect your King,
For he his is in grave danger
But the life of a warrior is nothing,
Compared to that of the King their only salvation,
But to leave the enemies territory requires deep concentration.
And alas He has arrived but it is to late,
For the Kings life the enemy is about to take.
But when it is over,
No prisoners are taken,
But that years long war will always begin again.