Rose Requiem

In twilight's hush, where shadows dance and play, a maiden stands, lost in thought's dark way. Her gown, a silken whisper, flows like moonlight's gentle beam, as she gazes out, her heart aflame with secret sorrow's dream. The roses, crimson as love's first kiss, surround her, a floral, thorny abyss. Her hair, a wild tangle, flows like autumn's leaves, as if the winds of passion's stormy seas had swept her soul. In this, a tale of love and loss is told, of hearts that beat, of dreams that unfold. The stone column, ancient, worn by time, a witness to the whispers of her heart's dark rhyme. The roses, a symbol of love's fierce, burning fire, that consumes, that never tires. In this, a requiem for love's lost past, a maiden stands, forever lost, forever vast.