Rose Requiem

In the shadows, a vision emerges, a woman of ethereal beauty, her face tilted towards the heavens. Her skin, a canvas of porcelain, glows with a soft, otherworldly light. The roses, crimson and velvety, seem to whisper secrets to her, their petals unfolding like the pages of a forgotten tale. The wind whispers through her hair, a gentle lament, as if mourning the loss of a love now past. In this moment, she is a goddess, a keeper of the roses, a guardian of the heart's deepest desires. The red glow that surrounds her is a halo, a symbol of her passion, her love, her sorrow. It is a requiem, a mass for the dead, but also a celebration of the beauty that remains.