The morning color invaded the screen window, the wind shook Gui Xiang, a few Ye Qiu birds sang, and my heart fluttered. It seems that time and space are no longer flowing, and the weather is not cold at first glance, breaking the sorrow, missing and leaning against the window. Drops of lapels, tears, a shadow of Tsing Yi suspended in the indescribable Nanyuan, dangling in front of my eyes. ...
Is it awake? Looking back, I feel that my clothes are full of fragrance. The sea is about mountain alliance, full of love and rain. After the memory of late autumn, the music of the four monsoon is playing mature love.
My deep words, like autumn wind, pour out my sincerity as always. Blue hyacinthus orientalis comes and goes quietly. Will my season really enter winter? What should love be like in winter?
The season sings the silent love song in the silent place. Years later, I said, "Who pities a shadow and loses a thousand clouds?" Perhaps, I am still the lotus seed with nowhere to take root.
How to tell yesterday's story in today's language? Floating in the south and drifting in the north, the screen is shaded by candles, and the long river is gradually falling, which is still the night heart with clear blue sea and clear sky. Looking at the blooming season in bloom, I'm used to the full moon and the ebb and flow. My worries about being stranded on a dry beach are still stirring.
A butterfly flew in and patted the window lattice. I quickly opened the screen window and let her fly in, leaving the butterfly at my fingertips. It turns out that the morning dew on the butterfly's wings makes it unbearable. I touched this butterfly with my eyes. The fluttering wings seem to dance in my heart and pass gently. Clouds in the wind are flying like butterflies, and a pure white skirt is an ornament of the blue sky.
This butterfly, to me, is just a beautiful ornament for a moment. I breathed a sigh of relief at the butterfly and watched the butterfly fly away. A string of my blessings followed her, hoping that she could escape the harm of nature.
You flew in like a butterfly, but you moistened my wandering soul. It is bound to rain this autumn. You came quietly, warmed my body, fell into my heart, and thawed my long-frozen heart. Your warm feeling gently tells me: "There is a lot of sadness and helplessness in life. We are just secular people and cannot escape the waiting in the world. "
I thought there would be no more touching moments, let alone dreamy nights. It turns out that happiness is a kind of missing and being missed. So I learned from the romantic poet "until, holding up my cup, I asked the bright moon to bring me my shadow and let us become three people". In the artistic conception of "playing the flute several times under the flower, while the silver man looks at the distance on the red wall", I twist a few poems to sing my love, and grind my pain as thin as a cicada's wing to sharpen my poems, just to stop suffering.
And this autumn, the falling rain flowed into my heart and soaked the frosty moonlight. All the goodness seems to be a mistake. Life is like a moving train, heading ahead.
Fortunately, my dream never succumbed to the involuntary real life. Everything is the mark left by the long river of time. But who knows, where are the sources of those joys and sorrows?
You said there was an afterlife! But I don't believe it. Maybe I'm afraid of the world of mortals. I'd like to live this life. I don't want to travel around the world looking for you and my heart. At this moment, I am also tired of wandering life. I hope those tears that flow into the night will never end.
If there is an afterlife, I hope to meet you on the hillside full of gardenias when my hair is waist-high, and spend that wonderful season with you. I hope I can hold your hand and grow old with my son. It is not a myth to live and die together.
Maybe, in my long life, I just need to remember that moment. I know that I will be sad and miserable from time to time, and I also know that I will be lonely, but I will remember that when I was in bloom in those years, you came quietly and left quietly, leaving me a loneliness, a bitterness and a trace of concern. I will also thank you for giving me the happiest moment of my life.
I can't express your feelings. Let's drink a toast. In the tears of trance, I miss your warm smile and chew your sweet words. Everything is like purple chrysanthemums in September-quiet and beautiful.
I can't promise, you are the only one for me. Is it the sad moonlight by Qinhuai River, or the independence of the green shadow of the Jade Man playing the flute on the Twenty-four Bridges? You came quietly from your dream, bringing a lot of joy and beauty. How many inexplicable worries touched my fragile soul. The green vine in front of the pavilion holds the dead branches and extends to the happiness in the distance. In my memory, the deja vu mountain is full of white flowers, cheerful songs, the wind stirring the branches and leaves, the cuckoo's light cry all over Shan Ye, and a leaf is floating quietly, telling me that I am a wandering traveler.
Postscript: light a heart lamp at the intersection of Acacia to illuminate the charming thoughts all the way, and freeze in the quiet waiting. Pieces of lilac petals falling between the lines quietly tell a three-character story written by a poet. Fingertips slide, listening to the pain of falling flowers, and in the pain, a wonderful flower meets the world.