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Sitting by the window, reading the diary, you are between the lines. Yesterday's romance and unforgettable memories are imprinted in my heart. My happiness is to miss you. Life is beating for you, breathing for you, yesterday's happiness, once sweet, lonely corner, crying for you. My happiness is to miss you, and my life beats for you, waiting to meet again. You are my baby, I won't let you be wronged. You are my favorite, no one can replace you.
The first time I heard a friend sing this song in the music group, I was attracted by the smooth and lively melody and affectionate words, and I couldn't help humming along. Habitually find the music score, download it, tune the electronic organ, play every note skillfully, and those jumping elves and fingers pour out. A picture of autumn wind sweeping leaves and autumn rain flowing in front of the window.
Chewing these lyrics gently, I was intoxicated with a slightly sad mood again. Perhaps it is a natural sentimentality, and I am often moved by some sincere words. After sighing, I often doodle some simple words, and my mood is like a waterfall, such as a clear spring. A thin pen imitates all kinds of life, leaving a string of footprints in the dictionary of the mind, and also flying a kite carrying memories at an emotional height.
In order to survive better, people need to communicate, and all kinds of emotions will be derived. I don't know how many people will pass by in my life, and how many people will settle in my heart? If there is a cycle of beginning and end, can it be an eternal fate? Is there a love that can be a lifetime of warmth? Read a lot of love stories, expecting the dream prince charming to sign eternity. No agreement, no notice, no early step, no late step, you just naturally came into my life. From then on, peach blossoms bloom for you, autumn waters flow for you, and warmth overflows my heart.
The days when I walk with you, the years pass through the swaying time day and night, either dim or bright. It is true that gloom and light are indispensable landscapes in life. White clouds are long, and I feel the message of life in the green mountains and plains. I always like the beautiful scenery touched by the spring breeze, the gorgeous summer flowers in full bloom, feeling the reincarnation of spring flowers and autumn moon in autumn, and waiting in the solemnity of winter. I especially like the poetic fluttering of autumn leaves. Whether the flowers bloom or fall, these will make my heart lake gently ripple, lonely and happy.
Buddha said: a flower and a world, a leaf and a Buddha. That year, that month, that day, you look back on the world. I don't know, did I wait a thousand years to pass you by? Perhaps it is the Buddha's sincere compassion for me that makes us meet in the beautiful scenery, with eyes crossed and sparks overflowing. Two silent hearts overlap and can never be separated. Finger lock, gentle heart, a smile, charming agarwood.
No chance to meet. How many people in the world meet and flow away without trace like running water, leaving only a plum brand in their hearts. The pledge of eternal love is like a meteor shining on the lonely starry sky in an instant, but what about the starry sky after the moment? Still lonely. There is no rhetoric or intrigue between you and me, only a sincere and inclusive heart, which can join hands with the wind and rain, calmly dance on the blade and look at the cliff. Although I occasionally lose my temper, it is just a catharsis of love, which will eventually fade away with time.
The window of time, the sky is still invisible, and the endless love of mixed flavors can't come out. You and I seem to meet only once in our lives, but we have shrunk countless lingering reflections. In the dark, I tasted the sadness of leaving because of things, let the dust settle and miss the boundless, cleared the shadow in the lonely building, sighed at the clouds and saw the lush and bleak everywhere. In a short time, ancient legends are being interpreted. I just want to disappear. My dream is absurd. I stand in the bustling secular world, waiting for your promise to return, carefully cultivating this flower with beautiful feelings as petals.
Tenderness permeates the waves of years and refuses to leave. Exile the soul in Tang and Song poetry, and recall eternal love in the deep imprint of years. Search for the past and embed graceful lines. The vicissitudes of time come to mind only for frowning. Lying listening to the autumn rain, every bit is concerned. Always holding a piece of paper, in the vast smoke of Wan Li, flying over the lonely heart, cocoon into a continuous acacia. I think of you in the beautiful scenery, and I think of you in the artistic conception of "knocking on chess pieces and falling into snuff"
Ask what love is in the world and teach people to live and die together. This question is worth pondering for a thousand years. Xu Zhimo said: "In my life, at least once, I will forget myself for someone, asking for no result, no company, no ownership or even love, just for meeting you in my most beautiful years." I think this may be the best answer. Love can be a promise of life and death, or a simple payment, that is, a beautiful encounter, and letting go is also a kind of love.
I often have a dream. On a night like water, a crescent moon is embedded in the blue night sky, and stars twinkle like children's naughty eyes. Bathed in the bright moonlight like water, watching mottled shadows floating. The breeze is rustling, and the flowers and trees are dancing with the wind. The winding river is sparkling and the water is gurgling. I was running in a field full of flowers, my casual clothes were blown up by the wind, and my ponytail was jumping and excited. I rolled on the furry carpet, shouting and laughing, saying that I would sleep with your name under my pillow. ...
You smile like a peach tree, silently guarding the scenery in front of you. The sun shines on your face, golden, like a blooming sunflower. It is a kind of innocence immersed in happiness. I can't help but be grateful that you are the most beautiful encounter in my life!
Standing in the newly visited station, riding the wings of time and opening my hands, I can't catch the fleeting time, leaving only fragments of memory.
Are the water drops on the petals in the morning the tears of the breeze or the culprit that confuses the lover's eyes? None of this matters, the only need.