Hair of sunshine gold, lips that shame the red red rose.
"Rose! Rose, where are you?" Her mother called out. The girl had gone missing again. No doubt she was wondering around in the woods, since she loved those creatures, and plants. It was harder for her to be like a genteel lady, as every princess should, since she was brought up outside of the palace. Sighing, she hoped the girl would come back soon. She was like nature; flippant, with the vibrant sunlight in her hair and the dark enchanting hues of flowers in her lips.
Hair of sunshine gold, lips that shame the red red rose.
"Rose! Rose! Where are you?" The servants could hear the queen's voice float around the palace's hallways, calling for the missing girl again. She sounded more and more frantic, as though frightened. They had to admit, it was unnerving when the princess vanished into thin air, and then appearing again before the day was out. The prince was never worried though, smiling indulgently ever. Perhaps the golden locks of spun sunlight and dark red tint of fleur-de-lises had enchanted him still.
Hair of sunshine gold, lips that shame the red red rose.
"ROSE! WHERE ARE YOU!?" The queen yelled frantically. It was late already, almost night; far too dangerous for a maiden to be wandering around. The guards had yet to find her in the border of the palace, and no one dared to venture into the forest. Steeling her nerves, the queen went to check the last possible place. She hated that chamber, and was frightened that her daughter would be stolen from her once again if she went there, but she had not choice. Each and every one of her steps were heavy with dread, but at last, grasping at the handle, she pushed it down and opened the heavy oak door that creaked ominously.
"Rose? Rose? Ros… ROSE!" She shrieked in horror. As long as she lived, she would never forget this ghastly sight. The room was filled with the sickening smell of roses, overwhelming her and making the bile rise in her throat. There were red roses scattered everywhere, filling every square inch of the ground. And in the very bed that she loathed, she saw pretty little Rose. The flaxen sunlight of hair spilled off the bed, and her blue eyes were wide with terror. Her arms were placed in a mockery of her peaceful sleep. And out of that fragile, pale neck was a single rose, its thorns piercing the delicate skin and spilling blood all over the gown and onto her face, turning her lips redder than ever.
Hair of sunshine gold, lips that shame the red red rose.