Swaying in the journey of life, I often think of that splendid time, and the youth we walked through in those years, I am no longer young and frivolous; Recalling those years, we ran aground in the running-in of the years, learned forget the sorrow and waited. I can't help thanking the years for making us grow up in tears. In the throbbing years, we record our youth and cherish the beauty of that pattern. In the dead of night, we sang softly for me with my soul.
Sing the fleeting time in the rotation of the four seasons, the season when the west wind is exhausted, and look for traces of the years under the background of the withered season, and I know autumn when the leaves fall. With the sadness of the creator, I lightly stepped on the leaves and quilts rendered by the autumn sunshine, and tasted a little coolness to welcome the late autumn, which made people old. Everything in the west wind seems to be hooked by time. Everything in the west wind has become a silhouette in the autumn sun, one by one imbued with the vicissitudes of autumn and filled with dust in the afterglow. But that kind of feeling is vaguely remembered, and it is getting richer and richer with the passage of time.
Flowers bloom once, but fall overnight. Ups and downs on the Yuan Ye of time. Who can easily promise a perfect one? In this rainy season, the clouds are rolling. A little bit of ink, with a wisp of residual fragrance in the west wind, wants to capture a fading love, but stares helplessly at the autumn scenery. The dusk of a season has already begun, and the fleeting time has long been hidden in the autumn wind, drifting away. Listen to the wind, blowing gently, deliberately stripping away those unforgettable plots, singing when the years are drifting away, waiting for the next story of flowers.
The world has changed. In the eternal years, we waved goodbye to Hua Shao again and again, and gradually set foot on the right track of life. Looking back, the road behind us is long and the footprints are long. Grateful for the scars of those years, I learned to be strong and let me face life, the future and all unpredictable things and choices again and again. When the layers of smoke dispersed in the fleeting smuggling, we suddenly found that we had left behind the ignorance of childhood, bid farewell to the ignorance of teenagers, and also faded the blood of teenagers and honed the responsibility of adults. Looking around, the world in front of us is very big, but last night's starlight still lingers in the corner of my eye?
Dance light years, red dust. In the past, in the mottled autumn sunshine in the afternoon, I condensed into a dull ink to welcome the fleeting time. May it be safe. (article reading network:
Every minute of our life will eventually become a thing of the past and a footnote to the fleeting time. The following is a beautiful essay of fleeting time. Welcome to reading.
Write a beautiful article in a fleeting time: May is fragrant and drunk.
In early summer, it is warm and warm, and the soft wind gently overflows the years. Who is exploring the depths of time? Who wrote the deep affection of time? It was a beautiful encounter, wandering in the poems and paintings in May, and fate dancing in the fleeting time. Those nostalgic memories, those charming and beautiful times, in this romantic season, quietly hiding those past days, the wind is light and the clouds are light, it is enough to be warm for a lifetime.
The change of seasons makes my heart miss more. In the silent days, listening to those beautiful melodies, warm memories and moving pictures, scenes are played back in front of my eyes. I inadvertently walked into the river of missing, touching the heartstrings, remembering the touching moments, rippling my soft heart waves, and those beautiful memories flowed quietly in time, shining my heart with a ray of warm sunshine.
Walking in the early morning of early summer, the air is accompanied by the fragrance of the earth, looking for a quiet place, looking at the distance, it seems that I can see the face of the past, and suddenly I am a little intoxicated, reaching out my arms, touching the temperature of the sun and feeling its unique warmth. Think about it, how many people have appeared in life, or stopped, or left traces, no matter which one, it is worth cherishing. Occasionally, I think that youth and ignorance at that time are still so nostalgic. Warm years, colorful seasons, for the love of the bottom of my heart, for the people at the bottom of my heart, those shallow encounters are deeply hidden in the depths of the years.
This season is beautiful and quiet. I often sit by the window, mix a cup of light tea, play a warm music, indulge in the flowers and meet my dreams. Life is a lonely journey. After experiencing loneliness and loneliness, the heart will gradually become stronger. Every fragile heart needs time to polish, gently twist the traces of the years, constantly experience, feel and gradually precipitate, and always inadvertently gain a lot and let go of a lot.
With the warmth of time, I am willing to be a gentle woman, smelling the flowers, listening to the lightness of the wind and watching the clouds fall. I am willing to walk in the passage of time with a youthful mood, with a light time and shallow thoughts, and know how to follow the fate and calmly. A feeling in my heart, full of words, makes fragrant words jump at my fingertips and warms my life.
To meet someone in such a beautiful season, I don't need to be vigorous or make our vows. I just want to hold each other's hands and walk in the sun together. At that time, my heart was pure, with no burden, only joy and throbbing. Perhaps this is the love I want, falling in love, free and easy, such a time is extremely beautiful. One look and one hug is enough!
I like the sky in May, quiet and blue, as quiet as a clear river. When I look up at the sky, my heart will be crystal clear. I can't help thinking about meeting Wen. A wisp of poetry and painting overflows at the fingertips, telling the fragrance of light summer. The quiet and beautiful years are full of agarwood in the fleeting time, swimming slowly in the bottom of my heart, colorful seasons and gentle vicissitudes.
Every time I come to this season, I can't help feeling happy, I will miss the past, I will write and walk with a grateful heart, and those memories and possessions will outline the beauty of life in the years. Hold a handful of time, bring a bright and beautiful, in this beautiful season, quietly exile your heart and feel a bright, light and quiet beauty.
Walking in the journey of life, in the years of drifting away, write down those beautiful things in words and collect them in time, so in the depths of the world of mortals, listen to the sound of flowers and walk calmly. Old is the appearance, but the memory will never fade in the long years. I still believe that even when I am old and look back, it is still as warm and happy as yesterday.
The years are silent, and the years still fly. I love the fragrance of May alone, and I have gone through the lush years. In this life, I want to thank all the encounters with a pen!
Writing beautiful fleeting prose: fleeting like water.
In this world, there is such a thing, you don't need heavy colors, luxurious rhetoric, high praise, just look back lightly, and your mind will flash quietly about those people and things.
Yes, that thing is called memory.
Facing memories, the world has different attitudes. I, on the other hand, am just used to stop and go all the way, building chapters and articles with some words in different shades, building an eternal country where memories can be preserved, and picking up my lost bits and pieces. The passage of time always gives people the illusion of panic. The days when the sun is lazy to climb are even worse.
In the light years, my hair is not sharp, but my thoughts are chaotic.
It means messy.
People who like memories may be lonely, but they may not be really lonely.
Loneliness does not mean isolation, loneliness does not mean helplessness, and loneliness has a wide and profound realistic background and spiritual background.
Women seem to like memories. Every woman has her own unique prose in her heart. In these essays, there may be some anonymous stories of butterflies dancing and the path is slim. For example, after parting from old friends, you will meet new friends soon, and you will feel sad at this moment. However, no matter what friends they are, they will eventually go their separate ways. Aggregation and dispersion are impermanent. When everyone is at peace, some people will begin to remember, while others will begin to feel sad.
However, even if it is sentimental, it will not reach the point where it is impossible to let go, because the road of meeting and then parting is the only way for each other.
In those years, they pieced together our lives.
In that case, why lose your temper because of separation?
Watching and listening, I can't help feeling pity. It's just that memories fade easily.
Then, write it down
With your own style, you may be able to write Qin bricks, flowers and plants, and romance. But that is not the point.
In other words, as long as you are happy, you can talk about a topic from heaven to earth.
Writing prose is also an attitude towards life!
When it comes to women's feelings, if there is some connection with prose, then this kind of feelings will easily escape.