Solitaire

Ah, this game we play alone
One deck this round,
Only one.

We shuffle and the cards turn.
We never know what to expect.
Except sometimes, perhaps, just a peek
At the next card down in the pile.

We stack cards in their neat rows,
Sometimes trapping something valuable
Beneath our seeming orderly suits,
Losing,
Unexpectedly
Because we didn’t know what we had.

In this game,
We all make moves
That we can never
Undo.