Looking up at the endless sky.
Gradually we will find that
In fact, life is a game.
Finally, there is only one small wish.
That is to be able to be with others.
Slow and good.
Keep walking.
Enjoy the scenery along the way together.
Once for a flower and a grass.
Maybe we turn a blind eye.
But then,
Even a flower can satisfy you.
We will smile with relief.
Laugh at each other's tacit understanding
Laugh at each other's invisible tacit understanding
Meanwhile, look to the side.
We are glad to have someone with us.
This is really a great satisfaction!
This is also the thinking logic of the people's cloud wife.
But it's not just the elderly who need company.
Life will never be really lonely.
Because at that time,
The loneliness in my heart will condense into ice.
Need love and warmth to melt.
But companionship is willing.
If it is conditional companionship
It has lost its value and significance.
Companion Poetry II
It's time to go.
It's time to break up
Forget what you can forget.
I can't forget the blur.
The pain I once had.
Once those tears.
Those who have given up
Once those persistent.
Those who used to be
Because we are too young.
Or is it because we are naive?
There's not much left.
I really don't understand geometry.
We get along carefully.
Real worry
Sincere and sincere words
We cherish it very much.
I'm afraid to walk.
Only myself
Leave yourself.
Stay lonely
Stay lonely
Remaining memory
We are not afraid of sunset.
Because the sunset can set on the mountain.
We are not afraid to burn out like candles.
There is a dead moth beside the burnt-out candle.
We are not afraid of the decline of prosperity.
The flowers fell, and one person buried them.
We finally understand.
We should treat it well.
Everyone around us.
Because we need warmth.
Need warm company
Peer poetry 3
"Outside the pavilion, beside the ancient road, the grass is blue ..."
The weather has cleared up these two days, and the air is filled with faint grass fragrance. The humid air seems to have moistened our white shirts, causing faint ripples.
I suddenly miss those days.
In the cold winter, you wait downstairs in my house and go to school with me. When I went downstairs, I saw you standing there, your long eyelashes trembled slightly, as if a thin layer of frost had formed. You hugged me happily, took off a red glove and put it on my hand. The warmth spread from my palm and flowed into my heart.
You cleared your throat and suddenly began to hum.
"It was snowing on the road. Were you frozen when you cried?"
I am smiling. With your singing, my winter will no longer be cold.
In the bleak autumn, we stood on the rooftop and watched the scenery. There is a little white sky in the white, and the phoenix tree fluttering in the wind and shaking off its leaves is silent in the evening. The setting sun soaks half the sky, and the neon lights of the city are quietly woven into the night sky.
I only see the evening breeze blowing your hair, and there are countless confusions and sorrows in your pupils.
You bow to the crowd and hum to yourself.
"Ten years ago, I didn't know you. You don't belong to me. "
I knocked on your head angrily.
I believe that in the next ten or twenty years, I will have such a friend who will accompany me through with her singing.
In the summer afternoon, the sun scorched the earth mercilessly, and cicadas chattered in the trees. We sat in the shade of a tree, and occasionally there was a sultry warm wind blowing, and the coke in our hands bubbled and evaporated quietly in the air.
You say, listen and cicada is singing.
So I closed my eyes and listened quietly with you.
Ear and there was a familiar song:
"Forgive the rainy day that took you away, in the dark night that I couldn't wake up."
I opened my eyes and tore your skirt. Every sleepless night is accompanied by your singing, full of warm and sweet breath.
Spring morning is a rare weekend, and we meet to climb the mountain. Castle Peak is shrouded in mysterious and exuberant colors. I bet you who can climb to the top of the mountain first.
You smiled and said, "It must be me."
I stare at you unconvinced.
You suddenly became serious and patted me on the shoulder. You said you suddenly wanted to sing.
"Think of me as grandiose and boastful just because I am afraid."
I just look at you, hold your hand and walk to the top of the mountain together. With your singing, you don't have to be afraid to travel long distances.
Loneliness was dragged into a hunting flag by the sunset and reflected in the chaotic twilight.
Standing on the tail of my junior high school career, I realized that for a few years, your singing accompanied me through those small and beautiful times and collapsed in the spring breeze.
"The evening breeze blows the flute, and the sunset is over the mountain ..."