From the moment I discovered that I like him, I have never stopped loving him. Dear moon, withered roses will eventually decay into soil, and your brilliance will also shine on other more beautiful flowers. Moonlight, that is the tenderness that I have always missed.
The rose will eventually wither, but the moon will always shine in the night sky, illuminating the way home to your family at night.
My rose is not fiery red, it is white and pure. It will never wither, and my tenderness is only for him.
Intention: None
