A Reflection of the Board State

Winter slowly embraces,
A cold country home,
Filled now with wistful feelings,
And of things I left undone.

Letters scattered on the desk,
These tearful goodbyes,
From someone I used to know,
Unless that too was a lie.

Near the window, the whispers,
Words I wished unsaid,
A friendly game unfinished,
White to move, but black is dead.

Negligence transforms the room,
My proud illusion,
Untouched books in empty shelves:
A study in seclusion.

The words shudder and they stop,
Like water frozen,
Silence reigns in the old house,

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