A wrinkly old hat, four long tables, books filled with very old fables. An old man at a desk, a deep-red bird having a rest.
“Professor, I have a question about a certain spell. The one you taught us yesterday, from deep wood to delicate shell?”
An eruption of blue and silver, the atmosphere is high. Ravenclaw has won, they’ve won the cup, each student feels like they can fly.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryA collection of poems I've had in my head. Some have been written with prompts from @MusicalMagical and myself!
