This Poem was Submitted By: Drenda D. Cooper On Date: 2001-08-03 12:25:26 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The Game

Your eyes slowly slide past mine, Then down to the stack. Your fingers lightly touch each card Then glide each gently back. I ignore your gaming ploys With patience that you seem to lack. It is only a game, Whose joy is in the playing. Swiftly, now, you choose your card With a sudden change of pace. You turn it quickly upward Showing me it's face. Your smile faintly fading When it's not your hoped for Ace. It is only a game, Whose joy is in the playing. I can hear your silent praying, As you give your cards a glance, For any way to keep delaying The end to this slow dance. Your face reflecting only sorrow, As if this were your one last chance. It is only a game, Whose joy is in the playing.. Tear-stained, cold, card faces stare, As shuffling, you begin to deal. The Queen of Hearts. Why should she care  For games we play.  She cannot feel. You take this game too seriously, That you'd even stoop to steal. It is only a game, Whose joy is in the playing. You're still thinking that I've lied.  A novice, yet, you feed false fears. For I have won, tied, lost, and died, Having played the game so many years. And still, the joys of the game of LIFE ALWAYS outweigh the pain and tears. It is a game, Whose ONLY joy is in the playing. 

Copyright © August 2001 Drenda D. Cooper


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