Romance VIII

Romance is floating in the cool, white-flickering lake, hands joined and devotion sworn; now a union of lovers illuminated by the moon’s direct care.

Romance is a night on a frozen lake, letting the ice melt beneath us and counting reflected glimmers cast down by moon and stars.
Romance is an afternoon by a river eating dried apple slices and creating stories for the trees on the opposite bank.
Romance is awkward dancing before the end of the world, falling to the grass and laughing at the fullness of life.
Romance is fallen tears on a bed of leaves, sparks from a campfire and four lives interwoven beneath a starless night sky.
Romance is vanilla on our tongues, summer shade on our bodies and wind licking our limbs.
Romance is ever-walking through starlight with the ones you love, hands held and eyes soft-lit by Vulpecula and Lyra.
Romance is a stolen moment on a couch, with sugary tongues and reaching fingers, drinking flavours of all the world’s real lovers.

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