Rose Requiem

In twilight's hush, where shadows play, A maiden sits, lost in thought's dark way. Her dress, a gown of silken white, Cascades down, a river of night. The roses, red as passion's fire, Burn bright, a heart's deep, soulful desire. The wind whispers secrets in her ear, Of love and loss, of joy and fear. In this still moment, she is free, A queen of sorrow, wild and carefree. The roses, like tears, fall from above, A symbol of love, a labor of love. In their beauty, she finds a peaceful nest, A refuge from the world's unrest. The image speaks of a soul on fire, A heart that beats with passion's highest tier. It whispers tales of love's sweet, secret pain, And the beauty that remains.