A Family Gathering

An audience with the king and queen
of Lewis Chess takes place:
the glummest pair you've ever seen,
they're so long in the face.

Enthroned, the monarchs, I confess,
personify the worst of chess:
he looks morose; she seems resigned;
is something playing on their mind?

And so our king and queen process
towards the thrones of Lewis Chess.
The whispering queen says, "Our relations
may make heavy conversation!"

The Lewis Chessmen are so tall,
their cousin-visitors feel small.
Our king responds, with anxious look,
"I should have brought my old joke book!"

Yet, when they reach each royal throne,
those foreign faces set in stone
burst suddenly into jolly grins,
with smily wrinkles; bouncy chins.

"So pleased to see you," they profess,
"Now, how about a game of chess?"
Our king and queen laugh too, exclaim,
"We're always ready for a game."

And so it seems a sad expression
doesn't always spell depression.
Don't judge folk's faces at first glance,
they may be waiting for the chance
to smile and laugh and play and dance.

poem © Celia Warren 2013

(Guess what Mr PP gave me for my birthday: these facsimiles of the original walrus-tusk carved pieces came from the British Museum.)