Romanov Sestina

Sword held aloft on the arms of a silent, old figure,
Shards in great flurries cascade through the ominous passage.
Smallest of boots hurry fast the whole length of red carpet,
Heads so discreetly averted from transparent windows--
Guardians fogging the youngest so desperately running,
Silently saving their Papa's mysterious secret.

Spinning on heels to retrace through their own concealed secret.
Racing the shadows of a towering, ominous figure
(Outlines of lips which with orders are constantly running,)
Children--the hunted-- dash back to their safe, secret passage.
Time then allows for the fleetingly opportune window;
Grants them their chance to slip under the discolored carpet.

Sliding on water, the boot heel unsettles the carpet.
Neither's to blame for unveiling their haven so secret.
Shots ring out, shatter the last of the isinglass window
(Back-up arrived for the enemy, as one may figure.)
Catching a glimpse of a boy taking off down the passage,
Coats begin swirling, the men moving in take off running.

Soldiers come raiding the home, several running
over the glass and the mud that sinks into the carpet.
Tessa remains with lips sealed for the shadow men's passage
over the chambers so bleak 'neath the tapestry's secret.
Woven deliberate, seeming a nonchalant figure,
Silk deceived not the intruders from spying the window.

Boots of fur stomp through the stone wall's cut window.
In children's wide eyes, a glass river starts running.
From beneath hair, faces turn to the shadowy figure...
Shots that might echo if not for the bloody, red carpet
silence Dmitri, forever concealing his secret.
Kicking up dust, Anastasia retreats down the passage.

Breezes of ice billow through the once comfortable passage.
Draperies flutter from jagged new holes in each window,
whispering, leaking the manor home's every dark secret.
Bases of statues collect dust with which they are running,
pooling the remnants of that which adorned the fine carpet.
Sword at his feet, there is nothing resembling that figure...

Gusts whip the secret through each gray and echoing passage.
Out full length windows the last of the shadow men's running,
Trampling the carpet that welcomed the figure's invasion.

---MRS 11/08

(I know there are grammatical errors and mistakes with the punctuation. I am just too lazy to fix it right now.)

(p.s. Mrs. Lowe loves this. I hate it. With a passion.)