Beautiful prose poems about autumn

Autumn is painting, colorful clouds, walking clouds, maturity and harvest. Let's praise autumn, praise the harvest picture, praise the colorful autumn wind, and cherish this? Middle age? Good times. The following is my beautiful prose poem about autumn. I hope you will like our article.

Beautiful Prose Poems about Autumn Part I: Autumn Author: Blue Boundless

Chongyang has passed.

Chrysanthemum, when you came.

However, Nanshan is far away.

Chrysanthemum is forbidden.

my heart

The sky can't be high and the clouds can't be light.

When the wind blows

Leaves are falling.

Every piece

They are all autumn faces.

Beautiful Prose Poems about Autumn Part II: Autumn Evening Author: Xiao Huan

The sky has been overcast for several days.

Much like the back of your departure.

It's getting colder and colder.

I don't know which word to use.

Remember your feelings.

I just want to weave my eyes into warm light at the moment.

Put it on your lonely shoulder with your own hands

Dare not recall yesterday's autumn injury.

Because the eyes are desolate.

The leaves are yellow and red.

I don't know what ink to use

Draw a picture for you

Finally, tired.

Only a light red is left.

Fall into the palm of years

The scenery in Xiao Suo is boundless and quiet.

The cold wind brushed the collar quietly.

A chill penetrated the atrium.

I don't know which finger to use.

Describe the meeting with you clearly

Open a piece of autumn stationery.

The petals are thin, and the geese have gone.

Alone in the autumn dusk

Listen to the falling leaves.

They said, "That's not withered sorrow.

But the charm of precipitation

They long for the loneliness of dust.

Because loneliness just comes and goes in a hurry.

Days are an eternal continuation.

Beautiful prose poems about autumn Part III: Ask Qing Qiu Author: Xue Zhener

Meditate on a piece of bluestone.

Fill a glass of moonlight and invite that piece.

Ye Er floated up.

My fingertips are cold and smell of autumn wind.

Don't blame the fog wet cuffs in front of the window.

A few reeds

Just asking, clear autumn.

You said it was cool in autumn.

Is it a thin season in Tsing Yi, or is the moonlight a little cold this night?

Stream is ink, bluestone is frame.

The curling wind draws from one shore to the other.

Chrysanthemum yellow, maple leaf red, drink together.

Look up and drink ten miles of reed flowers.

With the moonlight, into my pen.

No breeze can understand the aphasia of fallen leaves.

Whose Qiu Si?

The scattered stars arouse insects to sing.

Q, clear autumn

Which string fell and was defeated by running water?

The second question, clear autumn.

Which reed flute blew away the flowers?

Three questions, clear autumn

Which moon is cold, cold sleeves?

By the bridge, in recent months, forget Sichuan.

The last chapter, finally

Autumn is coming.

Lock clear autumn, park

A line? People? Word, wild goose flies south.

A few feet of piano can warm your lips.

The autumn wind is a few degrees, looking at the water.

Deep in the fireworks, your mind