When winter came, I picked the last leaf from the branch and put it in my arms to keep warm. Until the next spring, the last cicada in the forest,
I put it away. A quiet winter, listening and singing again and again. In the past of summer, the attachment of autumn keeps reappearing. The last floral dress in the closet was folded by me and laid flat in a corner. I dare not disturb its dream all winter.
Fireworks, fireworks
One snowy night, I passed by under a withered willow tree with an umbrella. It suddenly occurred to me that I had seen fireworks rising on a summer night under a willow tree. I really want to see the fireworks rising on a snowy night. A snowy night? Passing under an umbrella and a withered willow tree, I seem to smell the fireworks of a long time ago. That nostalgic smell.
Winter rain
Wet rain? Evening rain, street lamps that have not been lit yet? Get wet. Yesterday's kite? Like yesterday, it hung high on the branch and was wet by the wind. Heavy umbrella? On your shoulder, with medicine in your hand? Walking on the way home. Wet rain? Late rain, orange peel on the ground? I stepped on it and got wet.
winter
In the winter without snow, you can't sleep, your thoughts and words wander around, thinking about this night-filled city, and you can't forget your smiling face. The gentle moonlight brought me the attention of the whole city, holding the gift you gave me, and I used to put it on my lips gently. The warmth of love was refreshing. Looking at a yellowed leaf, there is still a magnificent winter in the abrupt meridians.