Youth is fleeting, time flies like sand, time is boiling, rain is old, and time is lonely like sand. Who is silently changing the color of the season, spreading and overlapping my thoughts of you again and again, and my withered heart is cut off with the wind and rain. Looking for you outside the dream, the light and shadow of the years wasted many lost dreams on the slate, and the fingertips seemed to touch the tears that were easy to fall; No matter whether you have lived in your beautiful figure in the poem or not, the smile of love at first sight will always flow in the level tone, and the passionate wind and rain have already planted my sadness of missing you in the sad flower season.
Boil a pot of green tea and have a romantic date with Chunhua, and pick a few peach blossoms to remember the first germination; Looking at the spring breeze on the shore, I am still polishing my old dreams and listening to the ripples in the lake, still writing the poem of parting; Play a poem with the lovesickness sitting opposite, think of your poem smartly in the fleeting flower season shyness, and be lonely for lovesickness alone. I miss your taste in the fleeting flower season, your colors in every season in the fleeting time, and your youth in the spring rain.
Every fleeting flower season, there will be different flowers blooming, colorful, charming and gentle, just waiting for you and the spring breeze to come slowly in the warm sunshine. The banquet is only three or two, and the charm and shyness can always wash the south of the Yangtze River with light words and ink, and miss you with the wind. You always wander among the flowers in the form of a poem, and the long-lost smile gradually becomes clear in the haze, such as the fragrance of flowers when they first bloom, pure and beautiful, elegant and quiet. I really don't know whether the season remembers your beauty or the season is sentimental for my lovesickness. It is swaying your back in the spring breeze, with the most beautiful flowers.
Another season's spring breeze buried the peach blossom in the bottom of my heart, and quietly lifted it from page to page. The petals that floated away were tears for you and fell to one place after another, which was the place where young dreams once walked. Once the wind met your pure beauty, once the rain watched you leave, leaving only the sadness of lilacs, and your fragrance was still hesitating in the lonely rain lane. In the flower season, I wrote homesickness in the fleeting time, only for frowning but missing my heart. It is a sad parting to want to read when it is difficult to read in the world. That kind of sadness has lost itself, lost years in green, fat, red and thin. There is a gentle melody flowing between the plain lines in the poem, just like the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River disturbed the sadness of falling flowers, or the fireworks in Leng Yan disturbed the silence of the night sky. The floating clouds took away the footsteps of time, leaving only the sunset to accompany me in the silence of thinking about you. Perhaps only the green grass knows my inner loneliness, and the sad dream draws a meteor in the night sky, which is that I secretly cry after hiding behind the stars.
When you left too fast in my memory, when the romantic flowers of that season withered too fast in summer, did you promise to lose the splendor of May colors? Turning around is the loss of the horizon, and my heart is pale with sadness, but I still can't forget you in my dreams and secretly read you in my poems. The experience in the wind and rain inspired a life without regrets. After ignorance, the beauty of the rainbow rises, and tolerance and indifference once again turn your turn into a mysterious brilliance at night. The psychedelic feeling in the light makes you lost and intoxicated. Are you used to forgetting me in the dark? You forgot the smile you gave me when you brushed your shoulder, and you forgot to pick up the feeling that I fell to the ground. In fact, I have planted the beauty you once had in my heart. Every time I see the sadness of falling red everywhere, your beauty will be quietly aroused in my mind. My heart doesn't want to forget you, and my dream doesn't want to forget you. The fleeting flower season is willing to wait for you and bloom new beauty for you when we meet next time. Flowers bloom and fall every year, which is a deep memory of silently thinking about you in the flower season.
How deep is Chunfang? Willows pile up smoke, and sorrow is insignificant. Love is accompanied by dusk, not planning to stay in spring. Tears ask flowers silently, and red flies over youth. The flower season burns the vitality of life in the fleeting time, the memories linger in the time, and the dreams of the years silently count the thoughts and sorrows in the sadness of new flowers in each season. When the flowers are fragrant, the text is lyrical and misty; The blue sky is waiting for the rain, and I am waiting for you in the drizzle, waiting for you to read your wet heart in the rain and your cold tears in the wind. Even though years have dyed my hair white, the clear picture in my mind will always be you, and the face of youth has been marked with the brand of flower season. Time is thin, but I miss your heart and body. When I went to Qiu Lai in spring, the autumn wind inadvertently turned out the old photos left behind, which evoked memories. In the clear yellow vein, there are still traces of your love and sadness.
I have amnesia when I am in love, and I am worried that I am full of acacia. I know I am lovesick, and I was drunk and sent from afar. I am willing to pick up and bury my petals in the relentless wind and rain, and I am willing to salvage the memory of time sinking with sentimental words. In the quiet night, I miss you in the moonlight, and I want to read you as a flower season in a fleeting time. How I wish I could hold your hand, take a walk, breathe with poetic language, let you indulge in the blooming April, and let the dream of youth wander in the past.
Flowers from Shui Piao to water, one kind of lovesickness, two kinds of carefree, this situation can not be eliminated, only frown but my heart. Missing always flies in time. In the cold winter, I looked for you in the snow, and I could only see angels in white's figure blurred in the dance; I asked the arrogant plum blossom for your news, but the indifferent snowflake covered your footprints. The heart-shaped pattern you cut out with your heart is nowhere to be found, only passers-by leave similar footprints on the earth. I really don't know where to find you. How can I find you? Perhaps the same story is repeated in the world of mortals; Perhaps, the episode of piracy still sings an intriguing melody and sings feelings over and over again. Has the legend that once broke the heart of love really been written into romantic stories and biographies by enthusiastic people? In the poem, you tell your memories in that distant place, and my thoughts are waiting for you in the next spring, waiting for you to pick up the lost memories in the flower season.
A short meteor can always shine into the beautiful scenery in the night sky, and the fleeting flower season can always evoke memories of spoony people; I miss you in the tender feelings of fleeting time, I miss you in every familiar flower season, I hope that time will be quiet and flowers will talk, and I hope that autumn water will last forever and you will cherish it. In this life, can I just miss you in loneliness, accompany with candles, talk with ancient lamps, watch the green hills and miss the blushing cheeks, miss you for a long time, who whispers that the autumn wind is late, who wants to talk but still rests, but who says it's cool and good autumn? Whether an accidental turning point in time will also miss a beautiful flower season, whether acacia and fleeting time will turn around and become indifferent to each other, and if they miss it, they will not necessarily meet again. Running water may smooth the memory of old dreams, but graceful falling flowers between the eyebrows are the dependence of love and sorrow. In the coming year, if I can choose a city with flowers to die, in the coming day, if I can meet you again, I will hold hands with you physically and mentally.
One day in a certain year, maybe you will stumble back to your hometown with white hair, come back to relive the lost taste of your dream flower season, take a familiar road again and see the flowers you are familiar with again; When passing by the old place, can your trembling body and mind look back at the red flowers on the ground? They are not ordinary petals, but tears that miss you in the fleeting flower season.
I want to read you as a flower season in a fleeting time and brand your beauty into a beautiful memory. Even if the years are like sand, we will be forgotten, but I just want to accompany you to grow old quietly in the fleeting flower season.