A kiss on the cheek.
Touch your forehead
Bit by bit, like happy tears lingering.
Rain weaves dreams obliquely.
Tick tock, tick tock
Wake up the people in your dreams.
That is the melody of youth.
It rained quietly.
Flowing into the heart is a harbor of happiness.
memory
That mountain, that water, that spring
It has been raining cats and dogs under the tree.
Hiding under your umbrella is the starting point of a dream.
Fate, you and I hold hands.
Rain is the red line and my heart misses it.
Spring rain knocks on the door of my heart.
Continue to disappear
Or the old place.
But I can't see the fate of this year.
Walking alone
Memories keep popping up in the rain.
Half a dream, half a miss.
It's spring rain again
A person silently appreciates the rain.
It is also a kind of romance.
The aftertaste lingers.
Yu Tiantian
I can't get rid of my dreams.
Miss more
Hope to see you again.
Not a dream.
Poem 2 about rain: Rain or rain, some people yearn for someone to curse.
Words fall from the clouds with thoughts and pour down the river.
In the distance, the invisible torrent, with lightning speed, occupied the earth.
You see Wang Yang, you see the boat crossing, and you see countless eddies and turbidity.
Crying? Shout? All this is silent.
Rain is still rain, sometimes gentle, sometimes sharp.
Surging from the blood, stubborn from the bones, is nothing more than an everlasting love.
Self-help or being saved, so hastily put on the agenda.
You listen to the rain, you listen to the paddle, you listen to the intangible story, tangible and intangible.
It thunders just because of lightning. One rain, another rain, who is right and who is wrong?
Rain, or rain, no thoughts, no heart.
From scratch, people are born. From weak to strong.
Just a moment of positive and negative collision will lead to many plots.
Secrets, darkness, such boundless release.
Is it raining or not? Ask me, ask you. ...
Ask Qian Qian's absolute conscience, ask generation after generation of pen and paper.