His rook had a chewed top and was twisted to an unknown shape
No one could tell the difference between the squares anymore
The knight was harvesting bitter fungus under the broken chair
As the queen lay, broken hearted, next to the virgin tape
As the folds of the window louvers contained the sun no more
Harsh light played games with the webs and linen in the room
Some voices ran back and forth, in whispers, now and then
At midnight, the moon caressed gently the tattered drape
The attic smoothened out the rough edges at its corner
And pristine sheets on the bed were made night and day
A faded jug of ice cold water with lime to beat the summer heat
Till the afternoon drooped and twilight placed a kiss on its nape
From the shadow appeared a depressing and forlorn figure
That shuffled its feet and dusted off the mud of the night
A mournful song resonated through the abandoned streets
As he walked by, calling out, through the folds of his cape...
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