A poem that imitates homesickness is changed into a dream composition.

Walking in the south of the Yangtze River, getting your hands on the tenderness of the water town, enjoying the beautiful spring scenery, letting the clouds ripple, letting the misty rain dance and watching the rape blossom, all the troubles and troubles can be turned into clouds and breeze. As long as I pick a faint rape flower fragrance and bring the rape flower language, I can follow the happy light and shadow and wander freely in the spring.

Perhaps, in my sleepless dream, I will lift my long skirt, stand on tiptoe, turn into a butterfly where the smoke flows, dance in the golden sea of flowers in my hometown and fly lightly. ...

The continuous vanilla smell is like a spring rain, faint and silent. Just like a person's loneliness, it is a warm and blooming epiphyllum on a cold night, fragrant and fragrant alone. It's just that this heart hides a little bit of potential lofty, hiding the waiting and expectation hidden in the eyes. You said nothing, and I was speechless. This is sympathy in the dark and silent spring rain. ...

In the lonely earthly fireworks, there is too much helplessness and parting, but I always believe that you will wait for me not far away, accompany me to see the full moon and bright moon, listen to me and say that the peach blossoms in the garden are charming, and you will stubbornly keep that feeling in your heart. Needless to say, the company of the soul. Just a look, a warm heart, you can understand each other's thoughts. I put this palpable warmth in my heart until the flowers bloom and fall. Love is there and spring is always in my eyes.