Sonnet Xviii - Shall I Compare Thee To A Game Of Chess? Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Shall I compare thee to a game of chess?
Thou art not square, nor see in black and white!
Rough moves make others, summer's sun doth bless
Thy smile, night turns to day, and pawn to knight.
Sometimes too fast Life's clock to sudden death
Advances yet thy beauty knows no check,
While Polgar's pride resigns, thy modest breath
No castles in the air would build, then wreck.
Love's referee wears well a cap that fits!
No gambits blunt thy spontaneity,
No Kasparov in pupil's eye could spit,
No Fis[c]her Queen could Queen exchange with me!
Let us no bishop mate above the board,
We'll stand Time's test, King, Queen, though never bored!

28 October 1992