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The cardboard square, a battlefield unfurled,
Two hidden armies in a silent world.
Red and blue banners crisp and neatly stacked,
A childhood strategy meticulously tracked.

The General stood, a symbol bold and bright,
Protected fiercely with all our youthful might.
Each numbered rank, a secret held so deep,
While cautious moves our silent vigil keep.

The Scout advanced, a daring little spy,
To peek at forces lurking nearby.
The Mines lay hidden, a treacherous surprise,
To halt an enemy's impetuous rise.

The Major marched with purpose in his stride,
Against the Captain nowhere left to hide.
The Colonel's strength, a formidable threat,
Each captured piece, a victory we'd get.

Remember the thrill, the heart within our chest,
As battle plans were silently assessed?
The whispered guesses, "Is that a higher rank?"
The sudden clashes on the tabletop's blank flank.

The satisfying click as pieces met and fell,
The silent triumph stories they would tell.
The bluff, the feint, the carefully laid trap,
A mental duel held within our lap.

No flashing screens, no digital display,
Just cardboard soldiers leading us astray
Into a world of tactics keen and sharp,
Where youthful minds could leave their lasting mark.

The worn-out board, the faded cardboard men,
Bring back the echoes of those battles then.
A simpler game, a friendship it would bind,
The Game of the Generals etched within our mind.

©bfa041525

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