Rose Requiem

In twilight's hush, where shadows dance and play, A vision emerges, veiled in mystery's gray. A woman stands, adorned with roses red, Her beauty haunting, like a dream long dead. The window's gaze, a distant cityscape, A silhouette of dreams, in a forgotten escape. The roses, like tears, upon her skin, A poignant reminder of love's fleeting kin. In this chiaroscuro, light and dark entwine, A tale of passion, and a heart that's divine. The woman's form, a statuesque, ethereal might, A roseate aura, that shines with inner light. A symbol of love, in all its forms and pain, A reflection of the heart's deepest refrain. In this still moment, time stands still, As beauty, truth, and sorrow, on her face are thrilled. The roses, like a rosary, a prayer unspoken, A testament to love's enduring, though often broken. In Rose Requiem, we find a mystic's sigh, A longing for the beauty, that never dies.