You use black and white film at the mottled bridge.
Photographed, my smile is like a flower.
The messy grass leaves in the background comb the Xihe River.
Butterflies fly in July.
Old wooden boats and ferrymen
Still come back with light.
I haven't forgotten that sad legend.
Legends written in poems
On the summer night of wormwood fumigation
The moonlight in front of the bed is as cool as water.
Soft gauze curtain is the faint taste of skin.
Hear the warm wind falling on the eaves of the beams.
In the dream, women's tears are flying.
Remember that little red tide?
That yellow flower shadow
Swaying the memory of many years ago.
When they first met, they made eye contact.
And now I insist on living in the same place.
Are you still at the starting point?
I didn't know someone had broken into the border.
In the season of fireworks flying
My breath passes through your palm.
Write an attachment letter.
Send the old days.
Find the direction of the first leaf for you.
Take the last light for you.
Waiting for you, listen to me, the most primitive is the end of time!