Photos will eventually fade; Flowers will eventually wither; The party will eventually end; Youth will eventually leave. However, the rainy season in Memories of Youth stays at that most beautiful moment, and some people live deeper and deeper in their memories.
Looking back countless times, I just want to gently sow the seeds of memory and tell the stories of those years together. You are a flower and I am a green leaf. Describe colorful flowers with tears, so beautiful and so desolate; That's one's expectation of dreams.
Do you remember those good memories? Perhaps it has long been forgotten! I used to write down every word you said and read your spatial dynamics over and over again. I can't help giggling at the thought of talking to you. I remember once saying: as long as you are happy. But in the end, I will still be sad silently.
Youth is difficult because of loneliness, but I don't know when I got used to loneliness.
Some words don't matter if you say too much, you can only write them down silently; Some words will be more sad if you think too much, so you can only choose to forget them. Some people are far away but close at hand; Some people are close at hand but out of reach. Maybe some people are the most beautiful in memory!
Love in the world of mortals may be doomed to separate, but the time of love is so beautiful! Youth never stops. In such a time, none of us stopped, leaving a memory of the vicissitudes of time. If falling in love is too difficult, I wish you happiness and peace. I have no regrets all my life, just want to wait silently.
Time flies, memory lyric prose 2 April spring breeze clings to scattered raindrops, until the drizzle falls, the innocence in memory ripples and the breeze blows gently. The passage of time is sighing and silent.
It is another sad season, spring. Really beautiful, very young, really good. A bald head often sighs that time and tide wait for no man. When I was young, I didn't understand.
In the endless years, we are only a small part of it. After a hundred years, it dissipated and hurried, and the years flowed relentlessly. Who knew we had been here?
Or the wind, or the rain, but I have never talked about myself. Time is like a song, one moment is sad, the other moment is confused.
Looking back on my childhood, I always want to be on a par with the sky, always want to be a hero, always want others to respect me, be stupid or not, but that is naive. What cannot be changed is a truth.
Years! Ruthlessly take away our truth. Let's learn hypocrisy and deception. How I envy those children, they can be carefree and carefree. What about me? But just bury yourself and don't let anyone find you. This is really stupid! Unfortunately, I can't go back.
When I was a child, the country road was full of sadness and happiness. I will remember crying and laughing with my friends. How memorable and precious. Unfortunately, I can't go back.
I went back to my hometown and watched the sunset. The rest of the red light filled my childhood heart at that time. I still remember telling a girl that when I grow up, I will take you to see the sunset and see the sunset all over the world, but now I don't know how others are doing. The more memories, the sadder. I'd love to go back, but I can't.
The starry sky at night is particularly beautiful, but it is inevitable that a person will be lonely when he is guarding the empty and shabby house in his hometown. Recalling that time, an old man's chair, a cattail leaf fan and a young father sat in the chair, shook the cattail leaf fan and looked at the starry sky in the yard. It was very comfortable, but now, the white hair has climbed the mountains and temples, and I really want to go back, but unfortunately I can't.
Glory is always glory, eyes are always full of god, but that was just the past. I fantasized about traveling all over the country like I did on TV, but now I find it's just desolate.
Ah ah ah! No breakfast, hungry, forget it, it's time for lunch! Write this article even if you are hungry.
Time flies. Time turns to youth. With the ripples of water waves, the blooming petals are spinning, making a halo and drifting into the unknown distance.
You beat the horse through my thin youth and came and went in a hurry.
You have come, if the sun is shining and the soft wind blows, it will disturb my mood a little; If you leave, there will only be stinging memories everywhere.
When you came, the sunshine accidentally fell from the horizon to the world, many-hued. You pick up a piece and press it in my palm. A gentle smile instantly lit up my youth.
Roses are in full bloom, and the fiery red color is like my restless heart.
When I passed by, my slender fingers picked up a petal at random, touched the tip of my nose, my eyes were full of light, smiled and turned away. The petals fall on the ground behind you.
When I think of Xi Murong's poems, I don't know which spoony woman's delicate heart is broken all over the floor. However, I would rather believe that the flowers will go with you, and when the soul has lost, they will wither on their own initiative. However, how long can the fragrance of flowers linger at your beautiful fingertips? As long as you turn around, the white paper towel flies with the flower soul and broken petals. Whether, this is the falling flowers and feelings, running water has no intention of nostalgia after all?
I sit at the window, counting the sunshine in your hair, wondering how the years weave your dazzling youth. Your arrogant answer and loud cry cut off all the dark roads, as if you were the only one in the world and nothing else. I stand behind you, watching your passionate declaration of heaven and earth. The burning sunshine stung my eyes, and finally, I burst into tears.
You broke all my defenses with a bright smile; In a word, you have burdened me with the shackles of generations and can't escape the fetters of fate; You turned around, swaying my youth and aging my years; You use a back, let me understand that everything is just a shadow outside the concept, and there is no ending.
The curve of the palm is entangled, leaving yesterday, but it can't be far away.
The tea is exhausted, and the eyes are full of sorrow.
Your skirt is flying, confusing the time. It turns out that all the vows of eternal love can't withstand the vicissitudes of life after all, and they collapsed under the sad background, crushing all my self-righteous forces and raising the flying dust of the vague past life.
All the memories are crushed bit by bit by your light footsteps.
As soon as you ride a fast horse and fly over my youth, the sound of horseshoes drifting away clearly tells me that you are not returning home, just a passer-by, just a passer-by!
You are by my side, and when the flowers bloom again, I return with a fireworks show. At the end of the song, people can't stay.
Roses bloom like fire, but grow old with your turn.
Can the promise between water and sky really not stop the change of time? No matter how perfect the time is, is it difficult to predict the outcome of the change? Is this fleeting sorrow and joy just God's pastime?
Now, I stand in the bright sunshine and interlaced light, looking back, the grass is growing, telling the fleeting time, and the memories are beautiful. Everything seems to be just a gorgeous illusion, and it is difficult to distinguish between laughter and tears.
Life is like a song. In some cases, it is just a sleeping romance.
When the melody of the years rings in my heart, the vows that were lonely in the cold wind are like a free cloud, flying leisurely under the blue sky.
Once, when we were young, we always pretended to be strong in order not to let the tears of youth drop.
I always think that if I hold my palm tightly, I can hold the unchangeable agreement in this life. However, many times, commitment is a butterfly dancing in the sun, which will disappear at any time.
Perhaps, stories about youth are always a little sad.
Perhaps, about youth and frivolity, there are always too many injuries that cannot be covered up. Behind the smile, I want to say goodbye, shattered glass. Some stories, some memories, have been lost in the fleeting time before they are prepared. They are as beautiful as the Manzhu Shahua on the other side, but we can't reach them. After all, this will only be a myth. In fact, in those years, I didn't care, didn't cherish …
It's just the intersection of fate, leaving too many forks, accidental teasing, wandering at the crossroads, and choosing only another arrangement from heaven. I have not walked through the scenery, and I have not accompanied me with laughter all the way. I draw a rainbow with my heart and describe the colors of freedom. Then, tell yourself that I still have money.
In this life, I dare not say that I have no regrets, but I still have a clear conscience. The principle that I live by cost me dearly.
Looking back at the sky suddenly, I always look forward to that faint cloud, but I accidentally let the vicissitudes of life cover my face.
Out of the scars of the past, we are all looking for the exit, the scenery in the sun, where is the freedom I can't bear?
Sowing a seed of hope in the soil of time, I believe that happiness will always be harvested. ...
Time flies, memory, lyric prose, 5 Night falls quietly again, but inadvertently, I have been immersed in the hazy twilight. Still as quiet as ever, maybe I am used to this kind of silence, so when I feel it again, I only feel that the wind is light and the clouds are light, and even the heart that has never let go is beginning to get carried away.
I like to chase the footsteps of midnight alone when the night is getting deeper. Although it is not as slow as a brisk pace, it is a great enjoyment to get rid of all troubles in a complicated world and understand life with a leisurely rhyme.
Wandering in the gap of time, thinking deeply and sadly, I don't know how to cherish the past. Along the way, things have changed, and autumn scenery has changed. Too many beautiful scenery psychedelic my eyes. But when I was in the dead of night, when I came to sort things out by myself, I vaguely felt that sentimental feeling. Gradually, the beauty that once made my heart yearn for, in my own hard pursuit, really became gradually slim.
I have always been used to embellishing my true feelings with those flashy words. If I use gorgeous words to render my confused thoughts, the result will be graceful and elegant. In fact, if you really pursue beauty too much, it seems illusory. Just like our emotions, we can't control the ups and downs artificially. If too much intervention is reversed, it will not be people who suffer, but only ourselves.
With the midnight starlight, I put my thoughts on a piece of white paper full of things, feeling a little bit of worry flowing on the white page, and my heart is inevitably touched. Perhaps tired thoughts have never begged too much, but what I meditate in my heart has always been the past infected by words.
I can't escape the years when I am accompanied by words. I really don't know when it started. I fell in love with engraving my own story in words on the road of life that is not so wonderful, but it felt wonderful, because in carefree youth, maybe I never really felt lonely because of the company of words.
Crossing the barren coast in the ignorant years, once again picking up the stranded wishes and looking back in a hurry, can there be a beautiful picture of youth? With the words in the middle of the night, scenes of the past began to be stored in my mind through the pen tip. Everything about the fleeting time should be sealed in the memory of youth by one person at night.
Youth is a beautiful word, but with the company of words, the monotonous flower season shows a lot of beauty. But in the long walk, who learned to use the marker of youth to render helplessness so profoundly? Who lit the lonely tune and turned the surging sadness into a river of tears?
Silent midnight has come in the unbearable memory, and those beautiful things that have passed away have also sunk into the river of sadness of youth. Now, with bitter tears in my eyes, my thoughts roll in the silence of midnight. And I, too, will slowly twist my sadness into an intriguing ballad, full of ardent expectations for the future, and then, when midnight comes, I will listen to the unique length of midnight alone in the loneliness of youth tunes. ...