Alias: Send you a bright moon.
On the night of early autumn, the raindrops are spinning and dancing, and the "Age of Innocence" is playing on the radio late at night.
The boy in white sat in the moonlight, blowing colorful bubbles, looking at the girl who wrote the poem, speechless. There is a tenderness in the evening breeze, quietly approaching, quietly reading the unfinished lines, stroking the tail of long hair, and embracing the sadness that the girl is out of control. ...
Melancholy is so stubborn and gentle, the rose-colored hands of the white boy still can't erase the sadness between the eyebrows of the girl. He looked thoughtfully at the bright moon outside the window.
Tonight, the moon is wandering around the lotus tree, squirrels are looking at colorful leaves playfully, and light rain is shaking a string of jade bells. The white boy divided the girl's heart into romantic bubbles, refined them into happy laughter, sleepy and stubborn. The girl finally fell asleep without a dream!
The same sensibility, different profundity and loneliness, the unruly white boy looked at the girl in his dream, and the moonlight sprinkled on her white cheek, which made her dizzy into the most beautiful appearance of love!
The quill pen stopped on the noise. Tonight, the moon is like water and the wind is like a song, but the poem can't finish perfectly after all. The girl is looking forward to, looking forward to the white boy to guard this fairy tale of falling in love and open the long-forgotten sweetness!
The last sentence is a gift, a tacit understanding, a rekindled fireworks, and the most precious affection!
Girls are willing to embrace themselves and loneliness, and expect all happiness to be related to you:
My boy in white, I would like to keep your favorite tree in my heart, water it willfully and sleeplessly, and lie lazily on the branches of the tree at any time, watching it eventually grow into a shelter forest and fantasizing that you are guarding my dream.
When the tide of memory recedes, all that remains is your gentle whisper.
Old events open memories, those painful old photos surround emotions in turn, and the sound of the projector jamming finally disrupts the advancement of memories. The blank is full of tears, and the girl looks up at the bright moon outside the window, and gentle emotions are flooding at this moment:
I just want to open my heart, and I will welcome the most sincere care. I am willing to make peace with myself in the past, and I hope that Wu Nong's soft words in my faint feelings can warm the passage of time.
My boy in white, please put away the moonlight tonight, I miss you. When your beautiful sadness spreads in my memory, may love follow you!
Prose has sound.
Principal: Suhua Wang, screen name; Transcendence, a native of Tangshan, Hebei Province, is the greatest happiness with words, dance, music and sound. I like to watch the ebb and flow in the sea of literary poems and sail the ark with music! Learn from the best others and be yourself!
Prose has sound.