Rose Requiem

In twilight's hush, where shadows softly fall, A maiden lies, surrounded by roses' call. Her lips, a crimson whisper, beckon near, As petals dance, like lovers, in the atmosphere. Her eyes, closed to the world's loud din, Drink in the beauty, locked within. The roses, red as passion's burning fire, Enfold her, a sensual, sweet desire. In this still moment, time stands still, As beauty's essence, her soul does fill. The roses' scent, a heady, sweet perfume, Fills the air, a sensual, sweet bloom. In this serene, and quiet space, The maiden's beauty, a peaceful, sacred place. The roses, a symbol, of love's pure might, Embrace her, in their soft, warm light. In this image, a story's told, Of beauty, love, and a heart that's cold. The roses, a metaphor, for life's fleeting dream, Remind us to cherish, the beauty that's seen.