In a sudden burst of inspiration, I wrote these sort of haiku-like poems, even though they don't follow the rules of a haiku:
Sitting in the night
Pearl choker necklaces
Four innocent girls
Their world comes crashing down around them.
An old stump.
Once sat upon by a Grand Duchess.
Alexander Palace Gardens.
Neglected and overgrown.
Hot September afternoon.
The sky is stark blue.
A camera shutter snaps.
A memento of captivity at home.
Photograph 1917
Anastasia, daughter of the man who was once Tsar.
But sixteen years old, sits on a stump,
Posing for her sister.
Wind blows her blouse-ruffles,
Dry grass wavers.
Not even her pearl necklace shows to remind us of what once was.
The last 3 are about this picture:
