Taking Ground

We are Castlebuilders the two of us,
you on your hill and me on mine
just far enough away to blight the horizon
and close enough to keep an eye on.
I always wonder if you watch
my towers as I watch yours,
and if you wonder among the two of us
whose castle is the colder one.
Yet others lie with lovers
among the ruins of their ramparts
close as each other's shadows cast in the sun.

We are Warmakers you and I,
setting battles at alternating turns
from our castles upon our hills,
depending on which way the wind blows.
You always look so gallant
when the wind is blowing from the west
and my arrows always fly truer
when the wind is at my back.
Yet others lie with lovers
watching the clouds push across the sky
gentle as each other's breath.

But there are some days though,
when the sun is warm and the air still,
that we meet in neutral ruins of our own
to wage small battles over fields
of black and white squares.
You breathe, "king me,"
as you nip softly at my ear
while I sigh longingly, "checkmate,"
into the crook of your neck.
No other lovers could ever lie here
as we do, together playing war
for the ground of each other's heart.