Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light
Far off by furthest Roses
We Foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight.
In the mountains and waterside, the moonlight dances like waves,
The dark beach is covered with misty colors,
In the farthest rose garden
There are our steps all night long.
Intertwined with ancient dance steps,
The hands and eyes also intertwined like a swirling dance,
Until the moon leaves.
Today's Astoria has not been able to escape the fate of running between the Ministry of Magic and St. Mungo's.
This is true every day actually.
Tips: The original work, after the war, has a lot of private settings, not the official version, slow-burning type, maybe a short story (?)
If you start updating, it means you have finished writing!
Intention: Love is just friendship in the beginning.