Rose Requiem

In twilight's hush, where shadows play, A maiden stands, lost in thought's gray. Her dress, a whisper of white silk, Cascades down her back, a gentle milk. The wind whispers secrets in her ear, As red roses bloom, and her heart does hear. The column's stone, a steadfast friend, Supports her touch, till the bitter end. Her hair, a wild tangle of gold, Flows like a river, young and old. In this serene, yet melancholic scene, She finds solace, a heart unseen. The roses, a symbol of love's dark might, A requiem for dreams, that take flight. In this moment, she is free, A spirit wild, in ecstasy.