Nomi Shira

Clash of the minds, young and old. It’s like a dance; he pushes forward and I move back; I rebel and he rests his game. Our minds meet yet they diverge; I long to soak what is his – yet build my own path. I long for his wisdom yet yearn to create my own. I build a wall and move my pawn, only to be greeted by his wrinkles hands maneuvering checkmate. He moves a pawn, and I laugh; but I am no longer laughing six moves later when his pawn traps my king. I take his queen, and celebrate; I am longer celebrating when he proves no necessity for it. 

I seek to destroy his plan and succeed; for a moment I sit in my victory, only to learn he has seven others. Some days those wise old eyes infuriate me; other days I would do anything for them.

One day I will play chess like him.