I like rainy days.
The beautiful scenery in the rain makes people want to stay, and the misty water vapor has stained every corner, like a painter's painting, which is heavy and understated, and outlines some worlds.
Sitting at the door, watching the rain curtain woven by drizzle, my imagination is dancing. The rain is thin and dense. If I am the spirit of rain, can I shuttle through this rain curtain? How comfortable and happy the elves are to play in the rain.
The rain is coming, and so is the gentle gray beauty. Her cold hands knocked countless gray keys on the earth, on the roof and on the tree, and accidentally knocked noon into dusk.
Enjoy the rain, being hit by the rain on your face, fresh and cool. I like walking with my family in the drizzle, carefree.
Holding an umbrella in the rain and chatting with a girl in love, our hearts will be inexplicably closer in the rain.
Walking alone with a paper umbrella in the rain, I suddenly became a girl in Dai Wangshu's Rain Lane, with the fragrance of lilacs and the sadness of lilacs. ...
I like rainy days.
Holding a book in hand, reading or reciting silently, or prose, or poetry, or novel, can be worthy of the rain. Reading quietly in light rain and heavy rain, the rain became a thick curtain, separating the secular from the outside world, and the rain circled a paradise for reading.
In the sound of rain, thinking jumps. Touch the raindrops, write, and rub the softness, madness and beauty of the rain into the pen tip.
I like rainy days.
Spring rain is as expensive as oil. Good rain knows the season, when spring comes. The spring rain is soft, the apricot flowers are wet, and the face is not cold. The rain in spring is misty, hazy and quiet, the rain in the sky is crisp, but the grass color is far and near. Indulge in this hazy and wonderful spring rain.
The rain in summer, like a burly man, sweats like rain, with a hearty pleasure, aggressive, leaves quickly, crisp and dry, and never drags his feet.
I read "Drunken Book of Looking at the Lake Building on June 27th" the most, and the dark clouds turned over the ink and didn't cover the mountain, and the white rain jumped off the boat. Suddenly, the wind rolled up and dispersed the clouds in the sky. The lake was blue as a mirror, beautiful and gentle.
Autumn rain is cool and sad, walking slowly like a sad girl. Indus is drizzling, which is the best portrayal of autumn rain and dusk.
I like rainy days.
I like walking in the rain, watching the rain and listening to the sound of the rain, which moistens my soul.
Zhu Ziqing's Rain: The rain of stars is the fluff of spring. This rain is so lovely that it tickles people's hearts. How can anyone not like it?
When the flowers bloom, it will rain a little. When the earth is dry, there will be a hearty rain. How can this rain not be amazing?
Rain makes the heart bloom and the wind makes the pen bottom. The dead language seems to be alive, as if full of youthful vitality.
Moistening the beauty of the heart, even the elegant melody of Whispering in Autumn, which flows under Richard Clayderman's piano, is hard to compare with it.
How can there be no poetry in rainy days? How can there be no words on rainy days? Reluctant to live up to the rain's visit, accompanied by the rain, knocking on the text.
Gentle rain, crazy rain, beautiful rain, slowly taste and enjoy.