“Among Roses, the Forgotten” © 2025 

By Laura Marco | www.lauramarco.es 

She lingered in that narrow space between shadow and light,
a quiet presence suspended in a moment that refused to fade.
She wasn’t looking at the world; her gaze sank into a place
far deeper—
a silent corner of memory where something once cherished
still smouldered softly. 

Light settled over her like a half-spoken secret,
tracing the curve of her face with a tenderness
that felt almost like longing.
It didn’t illuminate to reveal her—
it illuminated to remember her. 

In her hands rested a rose—
not merely a flower, but a confession in disguise.
She held it with the care of someone
who has loved something fragile
and fears the ache of losing it again.
The petals, weary and luminous,
seemed to guard every word
she had never dared to speak. 

The darkness behind her was not empty;
it was memory made visible.
A quiet echo of what had slipped away
and yet remained, stubborn and soft,
woven into the air around her. 

She did not pose.
She did not try to be seen.
She existed in that suspended breath—
a moment caught between holding on
and letting go.

And then the truth of the image unfolded:
she was the rose.
The one someone had forgotten.
The one still waiting to be remembered.
The one who, despite the melancholy
gathered around her like dusk,
still found a way to shine.