In the forest of tangled dreams, where shadows whisper secrets unseen,

a silent rose stands, softly it speaks, its petals conceal more than they seem.

Its sweet scent, a veil of promises, hides deep and vast mysteries untold,

like a closed book, pages of gold, a hidden language in its pure folds.

Its thorns guard the forbidden passion, a love that burns in silent flame,

in each prick, a repressed desire, a passion the world does not acclaim.

The rose, a symbol of the hidden, invites us to explore what’s concealed,

a metaphor for profound secrets, that within appearances are concealed.

So, in life, in human souls too, there are secrets kept beneath the skin,

just like that rose, hidden in its fragrance, a hidden poem yearning to begin.