La Rosa Rossa

In the whisper of petals, a tale unfolds, A rose, a woman, a story of gold. Her lips, a crimson hue, a promise made, A beauty that in darkness is not afraid. With eyes that pierce, like the morning dew, She holds the rose, a symbol anew. Of passion, of love, of a heart that beats, A mystique that in silence retreats. In black attire, she stands, a silhouette divine, A contrast to the rose's vibrant design. The wind whispers secrets, as her hair flows free, A dance of shadows, a sight to see. In this moment, she is the rose's keeper, A guardian of beauty, a heart that's deeper. The rose, a reflection of her inner soul, A symbol of strength, of a heart that's whole.