When heat and dust clogged my face.
And the sweat poured from the pores.
I would then thirstily gaze
at her window and implore.
As always she would be there-
a glass of water in hand.
Her smile showed how much she cared
for me and my restless band.
Now closed is her kitchen door.
Our thirst will be quenched no more.
Why to your nemesis yield?-
and run all helter skelter.
Your transparent comfort-shield
is but a fragile shelter.
The nemesis boomerangs.
And returns with a new face.
It once again draws fear pangs-
an ever-occurring phase.
Let not this farce pretender
be your prowling tormentor.
A square wooden battleground is all set.
The queen sits in the centre of the field.
The warriors are itching to cast their nets.
But nine black and nine white knights stand as shields.
The spear strikes at the heart of the uprise -
dispersing the knights all over the ground.
Some knights are pocketed as a grand prize.
But some still to the royal queen surround.
Turn by turn the warriors strike with skill-
forever in pursuit of the red queen.
The knights slide and tumble and pockets fill.
And once again the field is powder-cleaned.
The night is young, the warriors sip rum.
The lightbulb hangs to heat up the carrom.
