The Ghost of Anastasia

The Ghost of Anastasia

Like a Faberge egg, you kept secrets
Hidden in your fragile golden shell
Mother Russia cruelly betrayed you
Aided by dark Rasputin’s evil spell

Your 17th year would be your last
No debutante balls or marriage
Your dark burial was a dirty secret
Without mourners or funeral carriage

Defiant and spirited to the last
You hid gems within your corset
Praying your death would be fast
You were pierced with a bayonet

Woods echo with tales of murder
To where the Bolsheviks had taken
Russia’s last shining grandeur
And the royal family it had forsaken

Some still claim to catch a glimpse
Of her beauty in palatial halls
Perhaps she waits for tender prince
To escort her to romantic balls

Dimmed too soon like a shooting star
Passion-bearer and God's young friend
Those faithful to daughter of the Tsar
Mourn sweet Anastasia Romanov’s end


by: Kimarie Manhart-Freeman