Rose Requiem

In the stillness, she surrenders to the roses, A sea of red petals, a canvas of desire, Her face, a porcelain mask, serene and pale, A beauty born of shadows, where light dare not prevail. The roses, like crimson whispers, softly breathe, Their scent, a heady perfume, that beckons and bequeath, A mystic language, known only to the heart, Where love and sorrow entwine, a bittersweet work of art. In this tableau of beauty, she finds her peace, A world of red, where passion's flame release, A requiem for love, a lament for what's past, A roseate benediction, that forever will last.