Rose Requiem

In twilight's hush, where shadows softly fall, A vision weaves, a tale of love and all. A maiden lies, her visage serene and bright, Amidst a cascade of roses, crimson as night. Her tresses flow, a river dark and free, Entwined with petals, a wild symphony. Her lips, a whispered promise, sealed in sleep, As red roses dance, their beauty soft and deep. In monochrome, her skin, a canvas pure and white, Contrasts with blooms, that burst forth in the night. A moment's beauty, frozen in time's gentle hand, A fleeting glance, of a love so grand. The roses, like tears, fall from above, A symbol of passion, a labor of love. In this still scene, a story unfolds, Of a heart that beats, with a love that's bold. The roses, a crown, upon her gentle head, A token of devotion, in a love that's dead. In this image, a tale of love is told, A requiem for what could never grow old.