A meaningful poem

Beyond smoke

Calling your name in the waves, and your name

Has been outside Qian Fan.

Tides come and go.

The shoe print on the left is only in the afternoon

The shoe print on the right is dusk.

June was originally a very sentimental book.

The ending is so sad.

-The sun sets in the west.

I'm still staring

Pure white in your eyes

I kneel to you, to the clouds that were beautiful all afternoon yesterday.

Hi, sea, why in all the lights?

Light the empty light alone.

What else can we catch?

Your eyes were once called snow.

Now people are called

smoke

Bury me in the snow

Use a paper cutter

Build a small grave with broken snow.

Among them, the buried

It has been refined for thousands of years.

Not ashed yet

igneous rock

stern

Suitable for walking alone

And there is no umbrella in his hand.

No umbrella has its own beauty.

Wet is my wet.

Cold is my cold.

Even if you shrink yourself to the size of raindrops.

small

My little guy, too.

Seven step poem

Boiled beans are held as soup and simmered as juice.

The beans fell into the pot and wept in it.

We are born from the same root, so why should we speculate with each other?