White roses blushed in the fog

White roses blushed within the haze,
Their blinding light on lifeless glaze.
You walk the road in solemn pace,
With palace walls as your escorting grace.

Unreachable, severe, austere,
You burn our bridges year by year.
You build a proskenion high and sheer,
And drift beyond my charms held dear.

Your sleep is kept by haughty pride,
A blanket wrapped from every side.
Hypocrisy sings lullabies—
It hides the truth your heart denies.

Within this night-bound realm of shade,
You are the last hope light has made—
Yet, armored in an iron braid,
You swear the vow that cannot fade.

You walk the balcony each night,
To watch black birds in restless flight.
But losing vanity’s frail height,
You fell beyond all mortal sight.

White roses blushed within the mist,
Their blinding glow on form unkissed.
In foreign pity as I leaned,
I left this world in silent dream.

The castle fell, its fences broke,
In countless shards of dust and smoke—
Yet one thing stood through ruin’s choke:
A rosebush at your tombstone’s oak.