Rose Requiem

In twilight's hush, where shadows play, A vision emerges, veiled in red rose gray. A face, a canvas, pale and still, Adorned with lips that beckon, a sensual thrill. The roses, like whispers, softly breathe, Their velvet petals, a gentle, sweet death. The woman's form, a statue, cold and fair, Yet, in her beauty, a story's hidden care. Her eyes, closed, as if in reverie, Dreaming of secrets, wild and free. The roses, a crown, upon her brow, A symbol of love, that somehow, someway, will renew. In this dark, monochromatic world of gray, The red roses bloom, in a passionate display. A fleeting moment, of beauty and might, A rose requiem, a celebration of life's delight.