Rose Requiem

In twilight's hush, where shadows softly fall, A maiden lies, entwined with roses' call. Her lips, a crimson whisper, red as love's first flame, Her skin, alabaster, glowing with a gentle, ethereal claim. The roses, dark and velvety, like secrets unrevealed, Enfold her, a mysterious, fragrant shroud that's deeply concealed. Her eyes, closed to the world, in slumber deep and long, Yet, in her dreams, a tale of passion, wild and strong. The roses weave a tale of love, of life, of death, of fate, A poignant reminder of life's fleeting, fragile state. In this still moment, she is free, a vision of serene beauty, A rose requiem, a lament for love's sweet, sorrowful duty. The roses, like tears, fall gently on her skin so fair, A symbol of the love that's lost, and the love that's still to share. In this quiet, darkened space, she finds her peaceful nest, A place where love and loss entwine, and she is forever at rest.