Midnight Rose Mourning

In twilight's hush, where shadows softly fall, A maiden weeps, her heart entwined with all, The roses red, like passion's burning flame, In sorrow's dark, her beauty's mystic name. Her tresses flow, like night's dark, silent stream, As she beholds the blooms, her heart's wild dream. The lace that drapes her form, a gossamer veil, Conceals the pain, the love that she must hail. In this dark scene, where roses are the light, She mourns the loss, the end of love's short flight. The red roses, symbols of a love now past, Lie scattered, like the fragments of her heart at last. Yet, in this grief, there's beauty, pure and true, A reflection of the love that once shone through. The darkness frames her, like a work of art, A masterpiece of sorrow, a beating heart. In every petal, a memory resides, Of love's sweet touch, now lost, and tears that hide.