Peach and plum are full of mountain red,
It's no longer spring in Zhu Yan.
Ask who you've been with in your life,
Send me tender feelings to sing to the moon.
summer
Long waterfalls shed thousands of sorrows,
Flowers make you cry,
Affectionate, sauvignon blanc,
Always let sadness sting my heart.
autumn
Although the yellow leaves are gorgeous and intoxicating,
Deciduous leaves are always sad when they return to their roots.
Time has never warned people,
The gray temples shocked me.
winter
Just as there is snow on the earth,
All winter is a cold heart,
Lend me a glass of water,
But my heart is infinitely sad. Ladybug septempunctata 356946984 original
2. Describing colorful modern poems written in winter, the waves of passion are gone, and the windy air is hard to find.
The wind stopped and stopped at the top of the tree, the last dying leaf. The fog in front of me is very cold.
The sun struggled to clear the clouds but was too lazy to work, leaving a few rays of sunshine to perfunctory. Although it has a temperature, it is daunting-it breaks the last hope. It's always cold in winter.
The law of this trade-off has been confirmed here and here. The sun went down.
Fog, dark, gloomy came up. It erodes every organic cell in space.
The wind doesn't like all these roaring, stormy waves and the stealth of mountain peaks. It doesn't take everything away, but it leaves a fragmented winter. The only calm has also broken everything. Because it is winter, yesterday's dense fog has confused today's confusion, and today's dense fog has been completed. Winter is a confusion, and the dense fog has lost its way and caught its heart. Winter is the season of silence. Grandpa always sits alone on the wall in winter, silent. The sun caressed his face as old as walnut with gentle hands, and caressed his beloved child like a kind mother. Winter is the season of falling snow, and snowflakes swirl like mysterious white butterflies from distant heaven. My grandfather told his childhood story on a quiet snowy night. He is as happy as a child, and his heart is full of infinite warmth, just like us. On a sad day, I suddenly remembered the spring outing. In fact, no one knows what grandpa is thinking in winter, but his story tells me that he has been far away from his childhood and hometown. .........................'s Winter in the South is in the rural areas in the south, and what remains in the field after autumn is the scar scraped by a sickle. Maybe when the call of spring breeze comes next year, our life will be different. Scarecrow prone on the ground, is purely organized and undisciplined. Past eyes can't sweep away inner emptiness and anxiety. In the storm, they grew old and became the most corrupt. There is no need to talk about health and achievement. Perhaps it is such a corner, you think it is bright and dazzling, stubborn and contrary to the season, but it still ignites your inner weakness, hoping to be as strong and as usual as a piece of paper flying in front of you. Maybe it doesn't mean anything, but it shows small at most. The sight of the countryside can give many people life and hope ———————————— Trak snowflakes fluttered gently outside the window, echoing for a long time. The room is ready, and the table is full of rich banquets. From the dark road to the gate, only a few trees are shining with golden light, sucking the cold dew in the earth. The wanderer has quietly stepped into pain and turned the threshold into stone. In the clear and dazzling light, it is bread and wine on the table —————————————— Tang I love winter, and six petals of snowflakes are gifts from my grandpa in winter; I love winter. The snowman made by children is the joy brought by Santa Claus. I love winter, and the snowy world is a playground for children. I love winter. Colorful cotton-padded jackets add color to the snowy world. I love winter, that white and flawless winter! ———————— Winter Rain The first rain in winter falls gently, turning the water town in the south of the Yangtze River into an ink painting and a wet poem. The shadow of autumn is no longer visible on the bridge of the season, but the misty winter rain still has the charm of autumn. Carefully weave a gorgeous and transparent coat to make the indifferent winter full of romantic poetry and misty rain. Although the season has gradually become desolate, depressed and decadent, accompanied by the north wind, I still read the preface of "Fresh Winter" from this cool winter rain.
Writing winter poems is destiny takes a hand.
It is raining in Mao Mao, one after another.
Surrounded by hazy chaos.
You didn't come to me
I didn't come near you.
But when we met,
Eye contact, lightning.
No one dares to make a sound.
3 1 is our fate.
Maybe, looking back.
Recall the past
A snowy mountain.
You pick a plum blossom.
Kiss on the lips of Philippine red
It's just a shallow joke.
It fascinated my whole youth.
Cold excitement and happy plot
It made me forget the time.
Your gentleness is infinite.
Your bright eyes and teeth
Like pine and bamboo in the ice and snow.
Let me always be in winter
Deeply miss
Who said the past was like smoke?
Turn around suddenly
But found that
Youth years
It is the silence of the years.
4. Bare trees
Miss you
In the cold winter.
Watching the leaves wither
gradually
This is a memory of my old age.
From the heart
slide
got it
love
There is nothing wrong.
wrong
It is the temptation of life.
I really want to tell you.
The trees are covered with dead leaves.
naked
It's a concentrated pleasure.
2. Winter rain
A rainy winter
You stand in the rain.
Like mushrooms after rain
I saw you in my dream.
Fang zi ting ting
Is so charming
I don't know what ghosts and gods are along the way.
Made such an arrangement
perhaps