Dew glistens in the crisp of dawn,
peering out on an endless lawn.
Fresh air and sunshine I am drawn.
Soon I’ll be mowing for I am a pawn.
The king lives atop a manicured hill,
now slumbering peacefully while all is still.
Soon he’ll rise and our time he’ll kill.
His whims fulfilled against our will.
The queen too is soon to awake,
maids will arrive with orders to take.
Breakfast then served with chefs to make.
A picnic will follow down by the lake.
Their castle has towers like rooks on a board.
Treasures are many, much like a hoard.
Guards abound with shield and sword.
Musicians are hired to strike every chord.
Knights roam freely down endless halls.
They await more battles but more likely balls.
Their horses pampered in big, tidy stalls,
their messes cleaned by old women in shawls.
The bishops’ eschewed anymore plans for fun.
Soon it may be their rein is done,
king’s out-numbered at least eight to one.
Tables will turn then a new game’s begun.