Rose Requiem

In twilight's hush, where shadows softly fall, A vision of beauty, veiled in red roses' call. Her lips, a crimson whisper, inviting and bold, Her eyes, closed to the world, in quiet, told. The roses, like sentinels of love and desire, Stand guard around her, a burning, secret fire. In monochrome repose, her skin, a canvas fair, Contrasts with the roses, a vibrant, beating heart there. The darkness gathers, a mysterious, velvet shroud, That wraps around her, like a lover's gentle crowd. In this still moment, time itself is lost, As beauty, passion, and mystery are forever the cost. The roses, like tears, fallen from above, Surround her, a symbol of love, in endless, silent love. In this portrait, a story unfolds, untold, Of a woman, lost in thought, her heart, a rose, made gold. The red roses, like passion's flame, that burns so bright, Illuminate her face, a beacon, in the dark of night. And in their beauty, we find, a truth, so divine, A reflection of our own, deepest, most secret design.