Author: muzzle
It would be nice to be a wisp of wind and a cloud.
Spring without footprints, sky without footprints.
I am an iris with wings.
The direction of the agitator river
Gently chasing, like summer, like love.
All the colors are very clear.
Every minute, every second is in my breath.
To whole grains, to frogs after a rainstorm.
Hanging obliquely at the end of my eyes
At this moment, my running earth
Covered with layers of gold
Mature fragrance and fullness, gradually
Next to the root of life, I no longer.
Myself, I am a song, I am a piano sound.
I am the joy of running, the colorful clouds flying.
My running earth
Please give me a parking place.
Even a red apple seat.
Even dandelion footprints.
As long as you can tolerate me, including my wandering.
My poem, my sleep, my prayer.