Checkmate

An entire legion of horses and knights
Hooves and boots sinking away in the mud
As they stride over the fields like a flood
Walking for endless days and endless nights

Spotting the black banners over the enemies’ sites
As light reflects off their own shields’ bright white coloured stud
The knights brandish their sharp steel swords eager for some blood
And the archers draw their bows, now strained of all the fights

The king dressed in the night black clothes
Now stares blankly at the white king, whose
Army at last starts to draw close

The white king puts down his pint of booze
He smiles and says while rubbing his nose
‘’Its checkmate old friend and you lose’’