Rose Requiem

In twilight's hush, where shadows softly fall, A vision emerges, ethereal and pale. A woman's form, a canvas of moonlit call, With roses red, like passion's fervent gale. Her eyes, closed tight, as if in silent prayer, Her lips, a whisper of a long-forgotten air. The roses, like rubies, shining bright and bold, A stark contrast to the monochrome cold. Her hair, a tangle of dark, silken thread, Falls around her, like a mourner's dread. The light, a caress, that dances on her skin, Revealing contours, where shadows spin and spin. In this still moment, she is lost in thought, A reverie, where love and sorrow are caught. The roses, like tears, fall from above, A symbol of a love, that's lost, and endless love. In this portrait, we see a soul, so bright, A fleeting glimpse, of a beauty, infinite and light. The rose requiem, a lament, so pure and true, A celebration, of a love, that shines, anew.