"After the game, the king and the pawn go into the same box."
the box closes, only to be opened once more.
the game plays on,
till one's very last breath.
the fallen queen and her bishop stifle a laugh,
their horses chortle.
as the days go cold,
and the cards all fold,
space and strings entwined,
the very marionettes of life,
on a glass jar,
rests the fairy dust.
the wine bead swirls,
it settles,
only to be drunk.
cheers,
what says you?
