( AUGUST 1987 )

A YOUNG RECKLESS MAN drinking deeply of the ethereal moonlight magic with the rich golden hums from her silvery, harmonious heart of gold she has. His red hair spilling like a bucket of paint of burning, golden-hued flames that freshly tickle her insides, cocooning her in its golden warmth of the rain-soaked afternoons and the soft, pale drips of the silver moon with the intoxicated, pristine stars. Their rusty, scattershot freckles paint the rosy-hued blushes on their cheeks, sweetly humming euphonic tunes of harmony. He plays under the luminous, velvety sky with a radiance of a blazing fireplace. It was the way her heart drowns under his sweet, soothing ocean-blue eyes, like the carefree, drunken waves of an ocean, with the gentle ripples of the crystalline water bathing her in its purity and innocence.

She's a woman who dances with the drops of the sweltering summer rains with the first stellar and lunar rays of the sugared star dusted skies to the serenade of the luminescence magic that frolics around the heart of the universe. She wears the aroma of late summers gentle kisses on her delicate neck with the stolen kisses beneath twisted veins and the euphoric stars that lightly giggle with the aura of clemency. Her dark ink-stained hair spews all its beauty and secrets into the twinkling celestial sphere. Her dark skin caressing with the rich, mellow whispers of the wind that tingles across her delicate skin as the two sweethearts lay together in the field of blushing lilies. A humble giggle gushes from out of her lips as the little white lilies brush over her dark, freckled skin.

The purity and rebirth of the ashen, lush lilies swaying like the carefree, piqued ocean waves. White lilies, with those heavenly, silky blooms, gleams back with their own incandescent warmth from the eternal, burning sun. Tiny specks of hazy dust dance in the shaft of the afternoon sunlight, blanketing golden, the sun-wretched field of blushing lilies, in the warmed, golden hues of the illuminating sun rays. Two young sweethearts are enveloped in the sun's golden warmth, with their hands intertwined together like twisted trees. Alora Belle ( with those angelic, rich chocolate brown eyes ) has her back leaned up against a gnarled, hazel tree, softly combing her dark fingers through the fluffy, flaming-red hair of Charlie Weasley as he calmly perches his head on her lap. With his almost-tan, calloused fingers he draws small patterns on her loose-fitting, silken periwinkle dress, slightly humming tunes, as the two lay in the fields of blushing lilies.

He watches her with his baby-blue eyes softening upon meeting her face. His mind burns with the eagerness of the lingering question, tingling at the back of his mind for years. For years seeing her darling face of ephemeral, sparkling star dusted freckles dusting on her rosy-hued cheeks like he was stargazing at a million stars in the dusky, evening sky. For years with the constant jeering, taunting remarks from his family about the"imaginary girl" in his dreams. For years with time tightly gripping at their fingertips, collapsing into millions of pieces like broken shards of glass away from their dance with stardust, but hearts of silver and gold are not so easily broken.

"Lora, darling?"

Alora tilts her head down to look at the redhead who continues to draw patterns on her silk dress, "Yes my love?"

"I don't wanna keep doing this anymore," he says, almost bringing his voice down to a soothing whisper, carefully sitting up in the girl's lap, encircling his burly, freckled arms around her waist. He gently places his head on his chest, listening to the symphonic, soft beat of Alora's heart.

"What do you mean, hun?" Alora furrows her eyebrows together in confusion at the boy's statement, with the slight curve etching at her lips, continuing to delicately comb her fingers through his blazing red hair, "I thought this was everything you wanted; you and me together at last."

"It is my darling, but," he pauses raising his head from off her chest, meeting her rich, chocolate-brown eyes, his eyes softening up, drowning in her periwinkle warmth, "we could have so much more."

A twinkle blossoms in Alora's eyes, with the corners of her lips rising, "Are you screwing with me, Mr. Weasley?"

"I am most certainly not, Ms. Belle," he hums slightly, with an evergrowing smile on his mouth, "Ten o'clock. Ten o'clock that's where I'll be there."

"What?" Alora furrows her eyebrows together, fumbling like an idiot not knowing what her friend had meant.

"We're going to finally find our Neverland together, darling."

In the field of blushing lilies the two lovers lay together with their eyes swimming with the sweet melodies of the heavens above. The night where they would dance with stardust and have the night of stolen kisses like twisting vines beneath the stars where the pale, silver, horned moon drips shimmering over the field of blushing lilies. With the sweet, tangy whispers of the wind tickling the two lovers with its cocoon of warmth of lavender and vanilla. She carries the stardust in her veins with moon grinning happily in her eyes, and the galaxy dancing across her star dusted cheeks spilling over shoulders like a waterfall. He looks alluring with that pumpkin spice of a smile he has with the illuminating stars stained like glitter in his fiery, blazing hair, spewing out like a bucket of paint. Every night she drowns in his eyes of ocean blue, sinking as deep as she can until her eyes are filled with every inch of those shallow, turquoise waters. They'll dance in the field of blushing lilies until the pounding of their feet breaks open a whole new Neverland for their eyes to behold.

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PUBLISHED : 1/23/21