In a glass vase it stood,
For the past 100 years.
I approached slowly,
For some time I couldn't believe.
Collected a long ago,
From a grave of a witch.
The eternal rose remained.
My mind was in bliss.
It’s color so scarlet,
As if it bathed in blood.
Golden was it’s stem,
With thorns of diamond dust.
It was a treasure,
Beauty locked in a spell.
With a horrible curse.
In this castle so old,
Once lived a beast.
Whoever would love him,
Could save his damned soul.
However nobody appeared,
His corpse rotted beside on the ground.
The horns stolen, sold for a good price.
The longer he suffered,
The more beautiful became the rose.
It consumed his heart,
To take it’s final form.
An immortal proof,
That the cursed beast could have loved.