🌹This poem reflects the mysterious and haunting beauty of the image, drawing upon themes of love, loss, and the intertwining of beauty and pain, much like what one might find in Shakespearean literature.
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Behold the maiden draped in scarlet hue,
Her visage half obscured by nature’s lace,
A raven’s plume doth cast a shadow true,
Upon the wintry pallor of her face.
With eyes like orbs that pierce the darkest night,
She stares into the void with gaze so cold,
As if she sees the world in pale moonlight,
And all that glitters there, in red and gold.
The roses ‘round her brow, they whisper tales,
Of passion’s fire and love’s immortal sting,
Yet tears of blood, like ruby-colored trails,
Betray the silent torment they may bring.
For beauty such as hers is wrought with pain,
A fragile bloom amidst the thorns of fate,
Where every smile is born from deep disdain,
And every breath but strengthens sorrow’s weight.
O gentle soul, why dost thou hide away?
In shadows deep, where daylight fears to tread,
Dost thou not hear the song of dawning day,
That bids thee rise from out thy crimson bed?
The world awaits thy touch, thy tender grace,
To turn the withered leaves to living green,
To chase the shadows from the fair moon’s face,
And gild the night in hues yet never seen.
But here thou art, enshrined in crimson veil,
A phantom of the forest’s dying breath,
Thy beauty waning, like the moon, so pale,
Caught in the endless dance ‘twixt life and death.
Awake, sweet siren, from this silent dream,
And let the world behold thy fiery light,
For in thy hands, the fates may shift their scheme,
And turn the darkest hour to dawn’s delight.
© poembyselly