Grape Dream A legend tells the story of yesterday's dream.
Some people say that your leaves are like maple leaves.
I said your personality, blowing in the wind.
Autumn frost swept in.
Take away your exuberant feelings.
Leaving behind slender vines.
There is still a little bit of tenacity.
A long wait.
Just intoxicated by the spring breeze.
String, line,
Green, crystal clear.
Just like a girl's heart is full of shame and rain.
Maybe it's to make up for the long loneliness.
I just want to meet at this moment.
On a particular day,
Listen quietly,
Seems to verify the story.
A breeze,
We walked into the distant swan song together.
The red grapes in my hometown are autumn, and the crystals are decorated with branches and vines.
Red grapes in the country, light up your eyes and look around.
The wind blows the bell, and the bell rings with affection.
A feeling of nostalgia came to my mind.
Dreams, that's all.
Spread on the shelf of love
Looking for verse
Weave into a string of ripe fruit symbols
Jump up to the sun, picture books, piano scores, moisturize makeup.
Night, with the red rhyme of grapes.
Infiltrating the moon window, I climbed the ladder.
Hold the cane with a rare star.
Feiyue galaxy
Connect heaven and earth into a line.
Go to the moon palace
The other end is inserted into the mountain.
With the inspiration of nature *
Sing with the local accent of the mountain village
Fly,
Grape leaves in my hometown
Swing butterfly-like wings
Look at the lake, condensed into bluestone, and talk like a mandarin duck.
Jade rabbit jumps out of the moon palace,
Casa de Lava
WU GANG leads a dissolute life in his hometown.
Have a grape feast. Stop it right now.
This cabin is elegant and simple.
Grapes are brilliant red on the lips.
The wind is getting smaller,
Leaves are softer.
Chang 'e was drunk, too.
Dancing with charming love
Red juice, flying out of the fresh.
It moistens everything silently and softly
With the coming of autumn,
Enter into a permanent agreement
The vines will not wither for ten thousand years,
The newly built shelf will not collapse.
In this harvest season
An elegant painting
Little moon, little grapes
Xiao you,
With a little me ...
I walked less than 100 meters in the immature season of grapes.
The city in May looks at me.
It's like watching a baby who just turned 18 years old.
The tipsy hand tried to wipe the sweat off his cheek.
And I finally fell asleep in the arms of roses.
cry
Fairy tales are fragments of life.
In the bubble of love, pain spreads at the toes of the mermaid princess.
And me, leg pain is just
Just going on a trip.
No fairy tales, no love.
The journey in gray tones meets passers-by
It's just a hastily thrown attention.
And then fade out of each other's lives
I can't write a poem every time my body aches.
So I can't be a poet.
The poet's eyes are always an ocean of flowers.
And I can only see a peach blossom.
Or disguised as a pale white butterfly.
Hang on like a tiger.
My heart has been sprinkled with dew of fragrance.
Once again in the early morning, I lost my voice safely.
I owe myself a trip.
Shadow is silent, let time write a poem of determination.
She is here, and so am I.
The story doesn't matter anymore.
Hibiscus blooms early.
Teenagers who believe in love linger.
The little fish under the flower sleeps peacefully among the clouds.
Fingertip sunshine gently coughs.
Wake up the wind chimes and wake up at the same time.
And the silent night that belongs to me.
The smoke in Hancheng was ground into glass fragments under the sun's smear.
Vertical city. Appearance is inseparable from the past.
A little blue water drops in my eyes.
I also scraped the small fresh mud in the corner.
The poems you choose at random can't beautify the harm of facts.
The pain poked into the meat like a knife.
Blood is tied in a bow in the body.
The invisible scar turned the story into a secret.
About aesthetic pain, just to not go.
Bring trouble to passers-by
Why should we stop when we are in pain?
I am innocent.
Don't play with memories.
This is an exclusive private collection.
Just like those superficial expectations
In every midnight dream.
Die peacefully.
After the failure, once again
let the chance slip
No memory.
Time is nothing.
Sleeping in a cardboard box for the past ten years
Poetic language became Pandora.
It's like telling a small town story.
Tones that don't need to be rendered in May
Count the past under the vine
The noise of early opening is scattered on the staff.
You're not sad, just because
You are not me
Don't play with memories.
This is an exclusive private collection.
Just like those superficial expectations
In every midnight dream.
Die peacefully.
After the failure, once again
let the chance slip
No memory.
Time is nothing.
Sleeping in a cardboard box for the past ten years
Poetic language became Pandora.
It's like telling a small town story.
Tones that don't need to be rendered in May
Count the past under the vine
The noise of early opening is scattered on the staff.
You're not sad, just because
You are not me
Youth under the leaves of grapes
A little shyness embarrassed you.
Morning dew is the tears of last night.
Imagine a missing place.
Listen to the autumn language in the depths of the phoenix tree
Stir a pool of spring water
The story of flowers on the other side appeared.
Happened to meet me.
The injury of scented tea is not despair.
But hope is shattered again and again.
We have ups and downs in the story.
Never cry before you meet.
In the early summer afternoon, take a nap among the flowers.
Bee butterfly began to tell me what she was thinking.
Listening silently, I smiled unconsciously.
It turns out that they also have troubles.
My dancer in red shoes has a good appearance.
Attract the kiss of bees and butterflies
Forget the dust that should not be forgotten.
Forget the expectation that the breeze is intoxicated.
Forget who I am
Take off a smiling pear blossom nest and pass it to passers-by
At this time, I am just like them.
Just a guest under the flower.
Insomnia, anxiety
The story is full of spring scenery outside the city.
There are my childhood footprints on a ridge outside the city.
Rape flowers are still waiting for me in that season.
And an old tree.
Is it still raining?
When I went to my childhood date,
A life trapped by feet
No longer count the stories of time.
In the immature season of grapes
Grow up overnight.