one
The leaves won't all fall in one day.
For me, winter is a classic book that I can never finish reading. Just like in the desert, through the sand, through the wind and frost, all to take me away.
The biting cold wind took away a group of galloping horses, good grass, good flowers and good wine. Everything will eventually be awakened by the relentless destruction of winter, and those lost passions and fantasies will be revived in the body.
This slow and slow cold seems to imply something. Everything is disappearing little by little, like a great migration. Every time I throw away some dead branches and old things.
Just like the human body, it decays slowly and needs to be activated by something.
In winter, an invisible man comes down from the ladder. It is inevitable to pick up the illusory starlight, give up the roses when I was young, and come to the world from the clouds.
Like the arrival of snow.
First, be pious, accept the cold in winter, and compete with indifference and life. You can't say that waiting for snow is empty.
two
Honey, how long have we been apart? There are no birds over the city.
This winter, there are only silent Woods and silent bells. Twelve leaves fell and the sun gradually went down. The river is silent, and time is very skinny. The wind writes the legend and shadow of life, and the new season begins to face each other.
Whether you come or not, there will be life, and some people will die in this cool morning.
On a rock, there is the temperature of snowflakes, and the hand plate is blown up by the wind. All sounds hibernate, vegetation becomes reserved, butterflies turn into snowflakes and fly in the blue night.
Time also froze. In winter, everything is hidden in the mountains, self-convergent, and conforms to the breath and color of nature.
At this moment, every inch of skin in winter is very sensitive.
The hair-trigger lightning will wake up the snow in the distance; A flock of sparrows have nothing to do, and they will easily break all the weeds in the wild; Wild leopards lurk behind the leaves in the jungle, panting and hiding many truths.
No one delivered the letter, and the house was empty. A docile woman suddenly ran away in a poem.