johnnygreaser

Here is a sestina I wrote about a boy freaking out while waiting for his date.

First Date: a Sestina

When I knocked on her door all I heard was the barking of a dog.
She had told me about her mastiff, but I focused on her Mom
who invited me in to a nearly empty house, her Dad
wasnt home. In the sitting room were portraits of my date as a child. I cant slip
up. I felt like a pauper entering a Kings castle. Dress
why dont you? Why are dates always late? That picture

of her was freaking me out. You are not good enough for the princess the picture
was looking down its nose at me with its gilded golden frame. The dog
was sniffing at me. The mother smiled, said her daughter is still getting dressed.
I couldnt help but compare my mother to this Mom.
My mother a merchant by trade, her mother an apothecary. The Princess in her slip
enters, she smiles at me, I hear the portrait say Off with his head! I need you, Mom. Dad

is still not home. I thank my creator that her Dad
isnt here to see her daughter prance into the sitting room undressed. The picture
will no doubt whisper into the Kings ear of my capital crime of seeing the Princess in her slip.
Here I am, alone, I hear a growl and a series of vicious barks. The Princess Dog
has made his decision about me. This mastiff makes me miss her Moms
smiling presence. My enemy, the painting, urges Cerberus to take my head off. No dress

can be worth this. Mastiff towering, I stand from the couch to better fend him off. Dressing
my impending wounds occupies my mind while the portrait waits for the Dad
to tattle on this impudent suitor. I explore the sitting room waiting for my date or her Mom
to appear and take this canine in hand. I discover a thick book of family pictures
and see a great grandfather from Russia leaving for exile with his royal dog.
My god, they are descended from Russian royalty turning a growl into a quizzical look before I slip

the photo book back into place on the shelf. I cant help but think of my date in her slip
and marvel at the beauty of her royal line. I picture myself in coat of arms dressed.
A royal knight battling with my sword and steed a massive three headed dog.
Winning the Princess love while her Dad
praises me as a latter day champion like Babe Ruth and my picture
accompanies that haughty portrait of the Princess as a child. Her Mom

knowing I will always protect her royal Princess. At this point I did not need her Mom
to take the mastiff in hand as that royal nose smelled something valiant in me and slipped
his tail under his legs. A stop in the clamor for my head came from the picture.
The long wait conjured images of my Princess and handmaidens readying her wedding dress.
Waiting to give her away was her royal Dad
And nowhere to be found was that cowed dog.

Still I wait, petting dog, waiting for her Mom
and Dad. Waiting for a date to put something pretty over that slip.
One picture has inspired me while the girl puts on what must be a beautiful dress.