Monday, May 9, 2011

A poem for Maria

A Russian girl,
once stood here,
among the tall trees;
she had rose petals in her hair
and grass against her cheeks

But she did not care;
why should she care?
She was not a Grand Duchess,
her father had given up the throne
she could do what she liked
for a few minutes more

And then her mamma came
and told her the news.
They were leaving for Siberia
in about a week

Barely a year
was left for her to live;
and on July 17th
she was shot

no flowers were put on her grave,
but her memory is still with
that one meadow
in Tsarskoe Selo.

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