Prose poem about winter 1: Aria A snow came in early winter of 2009.
I made a leaf.
Ran away like a gust of wind
Falling, I lost myself.
Lost in the lyric major of "Three Stories of Yangguan"
In the interweaving of treble and bass.
I am full of emotions, and I am surging.
It was calm.
I slipped at the climax of the music.
Return to one's field of vision
Please don't laugh.
I can't take beautiful notes.
Because my predecessor was a snail with a house on his back.
Only after a brief warmth
Take back your head.
Prose poem about winter 2: Love story Standing on the balcony watching snowflakes falling one by one,
I seem to hear the whispers of snowflakes-inscriptions.
I know, floating down like this.
My favorite land, rivers and mountains, and vegetation.
Your affectionate eyes will wrap me up
I know, my purity, my crystal.
Will write that old love song again
Rise in people's minds
Does anyone know?
I dance because I am lonely.
Does anyone know?
I must go together, because I am lonely.
Does anyone know?
I struggled painfully in the sky.
Does anyone know?
I was caught in a cold current.
The last withered chrysanthemum
How long have you been cynical?
I know
The end of the fall
Please don't hold me in your palm.
Please give me another minute.
On such a night.
Choose to fall quietly.
It's me, a fairy tale that has been conceived for a long time.
How I wish, in my fairy tale world.
Both the magic mirror and the poisoned apple failed.
Leave the cabin
And the seven dwarfs.
Prose Poem III on Winter: Commutation, Idleness, Sunshine.
I am often immersed in my own thoughts.
Some people sentenced to death
With the temperature of the sun, the sentence is reduced.
Things I don't want to think about.
Throw it again, like
Dream date
Let me try my best to think.
What clothes to wear and what hairstyle to comb.
The snow melted and the sun was shining.
Don't feel cold in winter.
Yes, there is another person who is willing to give me warmth.
On the grass where my eyes stay.
A few trees stopped the noise.
Those summer hot words
It's all casual.
Rub your left hand.
Write the future with your right hand.
Many things, wind and water.
A lot of things are calm.
Prose Poem IV on Winter: The Spell of Chaos Devil
Can't let me rest in peace
In several ways.
Didn't change my bad mood.
For me, the soul of ice and fire.
For me, clay and ceramic bodies.
Dialysis again and again
Inseparable or inseparable.
Solve riddles with confidence
Smile painfully
Happy and sad
Experience gently
Fight back violently
Chaos, chaos, chaos
sword of Damocles
Sheath
Pandora's box.
Open, close
Prose poem five about winter: bid farewell to this winter and preserve the fragrance of the darkroom.
Facing the Sea With Spring Blossoms
Those gentle and steep love words
If you fold it, don't open it.
There are no bees and butterflies in winter.
Snowflakes are pure and flawless.
Roses wither long after losing water.
Lily exudes fragrance alone.
Just be plain day after day.
One hand and the other hand
Keep an arm's length.
Too familiar, maybe too strange.
That through each other
Only then did I find that many stories happened next door.
My only wish is not to break the beauty easily.
I will always cherish the colored part.
My shadow is always beautiful.
Your name is also full of justice.
If you are more generous.
Maybe I'll leave you some smiles.
Picking sweet fruits from my language.
Someone who sheltered me from the wind and rain.
The peach in your hand
Give it to someone who deserves it.
The lilac in my heart is a core.
Stable, no need for bees.
You're not a gardener.
Please don't ask for flowers or fruit.
It's a good thing I can still treat you like a dish.
Take care, please take care of yourself.
Prose poem 6 about winter: There are many ways to warm the cold.
No anger, no hatred
As long as there is sunshine around me
Today, the temperature dropped by 8 degrees.
I'm not cold at all.
Because it's close to me.
Someone told me
Today-cloudy-sunny
There are so many people in the world.
So many qualities *
You can't hold back the hail and save others.
But there are ways to save yourself.
The shadows will eventually disappear during the day.
Recall some things and tell some stories.
Because I found that my audience
I sent a gift called warmth.
The words written on the winter day of solstice are like clouds.
Black and white for a while.
It snowed for a little while and was driven away by the sun.
Prose poem seven about winter: cool down and turn around smartly.
Freeze those warm and soft sentences
The stream crosses the intersection.
Never, never want to look back.
The cooling is caused by solar terms.
The water outside the window is dripping into ice.
The bed is sunny.
Messed up my embroidered pillow.
Show the cloven foot
Fortunately, I will sleep soundly.
In my dream, I pounded the lily into juice.
Detoxify the people who have hurt me.
Prose poem eight about winter: autism has some symptoms, lurking in spring and attacking in winter.
Facing the silver screen, the fingertips are frosted.
This winter
I forgot, there are clubs.
I'm imagining
Next spring, even if you walk at the intersection of lilacs.
I will also lower my sights.
Choose silence and decide to build your own car.
Away from all the prosperity
Sunshine and dreams are separated by a window.
If you have to open the window
Yes, my heart is hot and cold.
Few people.
One moment it's clouds, the other is wind.
Something that makes me smile.
Can purify my depression and distress.
Only myself
Prose poem about winter 9: Grateful colleagues say Thanksgiving Day.
Two days have passed.
When I hate someone,
Suddenly thought of gratitude.
Heart sutra preserved for a long time
Soak in the tide
Soft heart
Spasms again and again.
Pick up the hammer of tolerance
Beat the iron wall of the soul
Bloom's voice is very low
Wrap the sadness into several lines.
Sparrows flying in the sky laughed at me unnecessarily.
Hold the sunshine in your hand.
Look for some marks along the palm print.
Words make me feel great.
Thanksgiving is a new year.
I know, the 20xx New Year fireworks.
Still smiling
It just happened on New Year's Eve.
That beautiful and touching story
The person whose story was written.
Tampering with sketches