Beneath the white snow of her
flowing gown,
                 a beauty is motionless.

Waiting for her moment as wilted
rose petals fall motionless,
               crimson tainting her purity.

The words still lingering, buried within
never to be exhumed from her thoughts.

This bride forever waiting , still holding
on to the rose, she is wilted like it,
but her beauty is motionless as others cry.