এ𝐹𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑠 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑦

Golden light on Francis, a dream in white and red, His golden hair a sun-kissed crown, a smile softly spread. Arthur watched, a hidden gaze, from shadows deep and green, A heart ensnared by beauty, a long-forbidden scene. Francis's eyes, like summer's sky, found Arthur's, soft and low, A silent, warm invitation, letting old rivalries go. No France, no England, just two souls, in that quiet, floral space, A promise bloomed, like irises, in time's gentle embrace. "Arthur, only you I love."