The Swagger

It's multi-layered, but it's primarily about the strategic board game.

I sit across the board from you,  

Your eyes aglow with pride. 

Too much swagger? (quite true),

Not worried I’ll turn the tide.

Your fingers act like they’re on mic,

Such practiced, fluid art.

Each capture, each decisive strike,  

Like eating a lemon tart.

You scoff when I deliberate,  

And frown at each delay. 

Yet in your haste to dominate,  

You fail to see you’re at bay.

For chess is not just intellect,  

But patience, too (and poise).

The quiet moves…like an insect,

A question of who truly endures.

You focus on the battle won,  

Yet miss the broader scheme.

Constantly pat yourself a ton,

Should play silent, like a dream.  

Ego drives all your moves,  

It blinds you to the truth.

Not seeing all the grooves,

Obscure like a phone booth.

As we play this ancient game (son),

You showboat (just too quick to cheer).

If you look down at me for no reason,  

You've already defeated yourself, you're cleared.