Prose describing the night, sunny night, shining stars all over the sky, like countless silver beads, are densely embedded in the dark night, which is really beautiful. Everyone has infinite reverie about the scenery at night. Below I share my prose about the night.
Prose describing the night 1 The sun sets dust, leaving behind the veil of the night. Deep and quiet, everything returns to its nest. People also followed the stars and the moon to find their way home and hurried through the market. The shining lights lit up the contents of the night and enriched the colorful colors. Only then will you relax yourself and your heart. The night belongs to you, because it blocks your running and irritability with black curtains and blocks endless trivial matters. Only at this moment will you be quiet, breathe easily and enjoy the peace and mystery of the night alone.
A house, a person, guarding a window, a street, a big tree, a crescent moon, guarding a city, without the noise of the day, without the traffic that has disappeared before and after, without the noise and noise. Couples who walk occasionally just kiss and whisper under the cover of hazy night, but they can't see the blushing smile. One heart warms another, and one heart touches another. At this time, you can think of a shower, a gust of wind, a rainbow after the rain, and think about the old friends and relatives who waved goodbye together that winter. Looking back, you can see a snow-white scene and the "moonlight birds singing hazy" in your hand. The snow is hazy.
Why do I have such a wonderful life? Because I know that there are people who still care about themselves and miss the world of mortals, that is, there is a waiting worthy of attachment in this world. Even if you can live to be a hundred years old, see if there are people around you who know you and care about you. If no one misses you and cares about you, everything will become a cloud. Living to be a hundred years old is a waste of time! If I am forgotten by this world, I will be like a meteor. As long as I flash in the night sky for a moment, I will never take life too seriously.
What you get is not forever, and what you lose is not forever. Only those closest to you will tell the truth from their hearts. Don't let your eyes blind your heart. Happiness is friendship, warmth is affection, tears are love, and the most tragic thing is bitter love, just like the sadness that Liang Zhu turned into a butterfly and the sadness of Titanic. Love is ultimately a tear, and love is ultimately a scar. Numb together, numb warmth, love will be more and more distant and silent, don't hold hands casually, don't let go easily, cherish when romantic, don't care about your own gains and losses at last, otherwise it will be a waste of each other's sincerity. I believe that my kindness can save me, whether in reality or in dreams. The more I stand among the flowers, the more lonely my heart becomes. Therefore, only by giving the night to words that won't betray me can I enjoy the feeling and peace in the night alone.
In the tenderness of the night, I write a poem and sing for you with melancholy sweetness, write a poem and sing a sad farewell song with the smell of earth. Every note is touching each other's hearts and leaving unforgettable thoughts. In the night wind, I listened to crisp leaves and broken branches, mixed with the temptation of the wind, in the snoring of this midnight nightmare.
In your sharpest words, I learned to be silent, and I learned to bear the loneliness and silence at night. Seeing your humble and pure posture, standing in the autumn night and watching in the wind, you may see all the beautiful spring flowers and lawns. But who knows that I am feeling the silent warm wind, gently passing through my body and mind.
After walking through countless peaks and dangerous beaches, you will never be fascinated by that still pure heart, and you will never forget that there are still a pair of burning eyes staring at me, and you will stand in the dark with dim lights. A warmth has never left me. You still stand where you are, under the pear tree, with no tears in your eyes, waiting for the stars made of smiles alone.
Every night, my thoughts will fly, and with the distance, I will taste the inner agreement. A kind of tenderness will fascinate each other's night dreams, and it will also blur my eyes, make my dreams move in the opposite direction, like the tranquility of the night, and make my thoughts no longer surge. I will pop up an oath that is not a promise on the computer keyboard, and I will not let my dream become empty again, and stay for you for the rest of my life in the middle of the night.
The night is beautiful, beautiful silence, beautiful tranquility.
Prose describing the night 2 prose describing the night
The crisp and monotonous sound of running water adorns the silent streets and lanes, like a night carriage. I was wandering by the deserted river, and occasionally a car returning from outside the city hit me and flew by. Loneliness comes with the night, like a huge quilt covering the body of the northern hemisphere.
The buildings by the river and the ships in the water are asleep, leaving only the sound of water. My tired and careless heart fell into the gray night like wings, and it came softly and vertically. I shook my head in dismay, and my sad sigh was mixed with the gurgling sound of running water.
A long barge docked by the river. My eyes met the light of the bow again and again, and I was shocked by the long barge it dragged.
Does the barge in Nightcrawler have the same depression and melancholy as me?
Is this ship loaded with coal or rice? Is it a child's schoolbag or an old man's clothes? In the era when airplanes and trains are all the rage, barges seem to struggle untimely, and what about me?
I once carried a lot of sentimental joy in the dark, just like the faint breeze in this spring night, which slowly erased my dream that was about to flow away. I wandered by the river, as if I heard the whisper of pure love between the barge and the river; I saw the silent light and shadow in the dark, swimming gently across the dim river bank. I can't hide my restless heartbeat in the dark. Is it so hard to forget joy and depression?
The tooth plate of the moon rises and hangs high in the silent space. Because of its appearance, my melancholy gathered again. Last night, a long time ago, when I first walked by the river, it was bustling and crowded, just like the platforms of airplanes and trains today. ...
The wharf at that time may have been abandoned inadvertently.
On this once winding river bank, there is no more lively scene; Leaving only desolation and silence. Perhaps, with the rapid development of today's society, there is no need for the dedication of rivers, which only has the function of tourists enjoying nostalgia. Maybe I will never feel the undiscovered happiness from the dock again, and it is difficult to wander alone in the tunnel of dreams.