Rose Requiem

In twilight's hush, where shadows dance and play, a vision emerges, ethereal and gray. A woman's form, a canvas of serene repose, her face uplifted, as if in sweet, sorrowful doze. Red roses, like rubies, scattered, lost, and alone, entwine her, a tender, mournful, floral throne. Her eyes, closed, as if in reverie or sleep, her lips, a whispered promise, soft, and deep. The wind, a gentle lover, whispers through her hair, a soft, sweet melody, beyond compare. In this, a tale of love, of loss, of longing told, a story of the heart, forever to unfold. The roses, like tears, fall, silent, and slow, a requiem, a lament, for love that used to glow. Yet, in this beauty, a truth is revealed, a strength, a resilience, that forever concealed. For in the darkness, a light begins to shine, a beacon, guiding through life's twisted vine.