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Some take checkers seriously, so do I.
I recorded my games without fail,
in the little park located close by.
Listen closely, you will like my tale.

Under the umbrella of an old live oak
sits a stump about chair seat high.
Not many things in this life evoke
such comforting tears to my eye.

A marble statue now, cast in memory
with so many names, a number beside.
The board inlaid, made of emory, ivory,
cast by an artisan in loving pride.

The real stump looked much the same.
I would challenge all comers of any age.
No one but me ever lost a game.
Beating me was a neighborhood rage.

The checker board sat on the stump.
I would log each name and the score.
Allowing points for each kind of jump.
Soon the board back held no more.

The oldest challenger I had was ten.
The thing was, if they won I got a hug.
They knew I wouldn’t feel so bad then.
Once hooked, from then I had the bug. 

Continuing as such in similar rendition,
‘Til came a letter from an art museum.
It spoke of a piece commissioned
by a local director of an atheneum.

Excited I walked to the old stump
looking for the name of the benefactor.
As I saw the name I felt my heart jump.
That small guy with the red toy tractor.

© Oct 26 2010   Charles Henderson   7 th in
Matt's "I fell in love with a tree stump" contest

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