There’s something about the wind…
“Another board game?” He asked, “ I have too many memories of this, I’m afraid I might lose again and again.”
“There’s nothing to lose” she said, “just let it go
Well, only thing bruised, might be an ego.”
She smiles knowingly, he looks at her surprised
Knowing she has something to say—the wind blows inside…
The curtains flutter; they begin.
She sets the pieces on top of the table board
“You know the rules,” she said, “so say no more!”
He hesitates awhile, laughs then smiles, “Well, that was ruled!”
“Well, what can I say” she replied, “I know your every move.”
He bumps his elbow on the table; a white queen rolls near the edge, but it doesn’t fall.
“I don’t think I can play this, I always whine up... broken-hearted.”
She stares at him quietly, saying nothing at all.
“But my dear, my only love” she said, “we haven’t even started.”
“Okay, one game” he said, “but if I win, promise me you’ll throw this away, and never again…”
She rests her head on her hand
and admires the painting where it all began.
“In many, many ways big or small
I really do wish you’ll win so we can forget this all…”
She sighs, “There’s something about the wind…”
As they begin to play the air creeps in
The light this evening shines very, very dim
It reaches as far to the edge, with a final grasp—
But the rays no longer radiate above the painting that read, “Falling forever… at last.”
‘Let me close the window.’ He’d always say.
Now the breeze in the air makes her hair… wave in volumes.
She corners him at play; he looks the other way—
Look up or down, he thought, one thousand words or a million moves, he chooses her actions, as she’d assumed.
With nowhere to look desperation runs thin
“Well, shall we end this now” she asks, “or shall I begin?”
He stares at her now, and notices her hair wave like water, as if leaving ripples
“Shall I close the window?” He finally asked. She smiles, “It’s not that simple.”
“Well I told you I’m no good, I told you I can’t win
you caught me all along, like walking on ice too thin!”
She smiles then stares once more at the painting— a painting of a fallen dove
“Just breath—relax” she said, “it’s only a game my love…”
“There’s nothing to lose” she said, “just let it go
Well, only thing bruised, might be an ego.”
She smiles knowingly, he looks at her surprised
Knowing she has something to say—the wind blows inside…
The curtains flutter; they begin.
She sets the pieces on top of the table board
“You know the rules,” she said, “so say no more!”
He hesitates awhile, laughs then smiles, “Well, that was ruled!”
“Well, what can I say” she replied, “I know your every move.”
He bumps his elbow on the table; a white queen rolls near the edge, but it doesn’t fall.
“I don’t think I can play this, I always whine up... broken-hearted.”
She stares at him quietly, saying nothing at all.
“But my dear, my only love” she said, “we haven’t even started.”
“Okay, one game” he said, “but if I win, promise me you’ll throw this away, and never again…”
She rests her head on her hand
and admires the painting where it all began.
“In many, many ways big or small
I really do wish you’ll win so we can forget this all…”
She sighs, “There’s something about the wind…”
As they begin to play the air creeps in
The light this evening shines very, very dim
It reaches as far to the edge, with a final grasp—
But the rays no longer radiate above the painting that read, “Falling forever… at last.”
‘Let me close the window.’ He’d always say.
Now the breeze in the air makes her hair… wave in volumes.
She corners him at play; he looks the other way—
Look up or down, he thought, one thousand words or a million moves, he chooses her actions, as she’d assumed.
With nowhere to look desperation runs thin
“Well, shall we end this now” she asks, “or shall I begin?”
He stares at her now, and notices her hair wave like water, as if leaving ripples
“Shall I close the window?” He finally asked. She smiles, “It’s not that simple.”
“Well I told you I’m no good, I told you I can’t win
you caught me all along, like walking on ice too thin!”
She smiles then stares once more at the painting— a painting of a fallen dove
“Just breath—relax” she said, “it’s only a game my love…”
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