Watching the dancing of fallen leaves, I realized that the rhythm of time is the footsteps of September. I put my silent hope in the golden autumn of harvest.
The mood is warm orange, like this garden full of chrysanthemums in September, timid, elegant, fragrant, intoxicated and slightly drunk.
In the last season of chrysanthemum fragrance, you held my hand, looked at the leisurely clouds, bathed in a warm and lingering moonlight bath, and then slept in a jade-like silver plate with a dream of bridging the galaxy, without asking for it.
So, I began to dip in rainbow ink, and on the plain label laid by silver moon, I drew a misty light sorrow, fingers flying, long feelings flowing from my fingers, happiness and sadness flowing into songs, rustling and singing, writing articles, intoxicated, filled with your taste, and became my own song, except you.
You listen quietly under the moon, but there are no notes. The calm heart lake hides the rolling waves. My eyes are full of rivers, just for you. I am still such a sensitive woman who can't restrain herself. I am always disappointed with the bustling moonlit night. Instead, let the heart slowly calm down in its own surging, and finally not disturb the beautiful scenery on the other side.
The green leaves wither, the flowers fall and the red leaves stay, and I still invest in this autumn in the sun. Those lamentations that crawl in the bottom of my heart have also become a group of music that is expected, melodious in the goose yellow in the clear autumn, embellishing some throbbing vitality for this desolate season and buffering the pace of rushing into the cold winter. My heart is still warm and full. Because, I know you have been back, drunk and wandering in this melodious place. You are staring at my window in the moonlight for a long time, deeply touching and shaking off your warm breath. Even if I can't brush my shoulders or hold hands, I will stay in your eternal dream.
Just like last night, the slightly shy string moon decorated your beautiful dream overnight.
Silent yearning for love is my unique style for you. The most beautiful past, the best time, just remember, a small flower hidden in the bottom of my heart, beautiful and fragrant, always smelling and intoxicated silently, will be a fragrant life time.
Tonight, the full moon, you no longer look through the window. Your eyes are like this gentle moonlight, bathing me warmly. Just waiting for you to draw this warm color, just waiting for you to connect with the cycle of this season.
The moon is in the willow tip, and people are in the hazy place, which is impossible to meet.