Winter, is simple, more quiet. This quiet in the love of life, but also the memory of the past. Every season there will be a flower bloom, and the snowflake is the most elegant one in winter. I love snowflakes, not only because I was born in the north, but also because the snowflakes give me innocent feelings and white memories. This winter, my small town did not snow, the north wind does not come, small town snowflakes do not fly. I was sitting quietly in the plain time, waiting for a fluttering snow.
Love, like a snowflake, simple and beautiful. Once, you if a floating snowflake, gently fell into my heart, those warm times, like snowflakes moisturizing the mind, slowly precipitated into the most warm memories.
Winter night, is quiet, quiet only hear the sound of the cold wind rustle, push open the window, a white elf from the sky, the arrival of snow, making the lonely days, but also a touch of warmth and poetry. Cooking snow to cook tea, snow brewing good words, the light flavor, is the taste of missing, is refreshing cold and sweet and bitter taste. You such as snowflakes, gently come and go gently, leaving me only roaming the sky like flotsam thoughts ......
Clear silent days, I sit quietly in his hut, watching the clouds from the window, listening to the west wind to roll away those yellowed leaves of the bamboo, expecting the gentle snowflakes to accompany me. With a dustless heart, let the snowflakes warm and moisturize the soul of the silent and lonesome, and hide the thoughts in the snow, so that it can germinate in the winter night and blossom in the dream.
Snowflakes with the four seasons of longing, light as a butterfly, drifting down the plum branches, snowflakes and plum blossoms, is the love song of that winter. The snow is dancing in the sky, silent and silent, moisturizing the mountains and rivers, warming the earth. Snow gently fell in the palm of the hand, warming a cold and silent heart, willing to dance with the snow ****, and love walk. Met the snow, as if met you, let the snow with the wind from the south fell in the city with you, that a familiar plum garden, there will be your brilliant smile, and bloom in the branches, that a touch of red and white reflected the beauty.
November sky, my small town in the snow, I think the south of that city is also cold and bleak. Snowflakes, fluttering, with my attachment, gently fell on my shoulders, suddenly, a trace of inexplicable sadness surged up to the heart, quietly looking at the sky, any thoughts such as flotsam, the heart of the matter of flowers. I'm not sure how much I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm sure I'll be able to do it in a few minutes. Missing, such as snowflakes, silent and motionless, but dozens of fell in the heart ......
Missing when, hold a pen, but not to write cut thoughts; raw statements, not all the hundred kinds of attachment, then and let the fluttering snowflakes to pass the innocent thoughts, in the heart and the heart of the dance between the eyes of each other in the warmth of the eyebrows.
Morning, a thin layer of cold fog covering the window bier, a bright light flashing in front of the window, the winter heart is lonely, this lonely in the snow dance, there is also the sunshine of the bright. A person's time, is quiet, reading, writing, listening to a pure melody, let the troublesome trivialities in a cup of tea dissipated. Through the years, just like a flower blossomed tenderness, eyebrows on the heart of the fireworks, by the years of incense smoked into a touch of glazed color. The years have changed, my heart is still, with a meter of sunshine, twisting a touch of fragrance, love life, love yourself, love all the love.
Outside the window, the stars are not light, only the thin west wind caressing my cheeks, twisting up a touch of winter thoughts, in the ink color in the light sigh. Silence is walking through the time, remembered the most beautiful encounter, when the lotus flowers bloomed the most beautiful, time to achieve the most clear beautiful memories. I was in the ink, read the deep meaning of your words.
Has been a cold person, the body of the cold does not mean that the warmth of the heart, which gradually cold silence in the west wind, I am waiting for a snow, really want to flutter into a white snowflake, along with the footprints of the wind, drifted in the city of you, gently fall in your warm palm. My happiness, my sadness, my lovesickness, I am willing to whisper and sing for you ......
Read a paragraph of the text, the heart in the sudden a little pain, remembered the lights out of that figure, but also remembered the fireworks easy to cold, perhaps the emotions to a certain point in time, the cold, more appear to be peaceful and elegant. All the love and have, are in the words tender. All the thoughts and pain, all in the cold silence to stay. Tonight, I don't want ink, nor moonlight, let my soul pillow a wisp of fragrance into the dream.
Flowers bloom for thousands of years, sleep into the heart of the lotus, the lotus in the red dust outside, quietly beautiful as poetry. If a flower can splendor the whole spring, then the stranded memory, whether it can illuminate the dream of the promise. A breeze, a meter of sunshine, flowers in the warm sun a show of elegance, bright love of the flowering period. Those warm words, those hand in hand through the dribs and drabs, still clear in the memory. Expectation, in the most beautiful years, have elegant as clouds of you, at that time, you white snow, I smile like a flower. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on some of the most popular products and services in the world, and then you'll be able to get your hands on some of the most popular ones.
Plum open snow fall, swaying branches hung with sentimental frost, I hid in the dream, with a graceful posture in the paper murmuring and singing. Heart like snow, dream like flowers, memory of the dark fragrance gently surging. That year then, the snow dance appendage, I lost in your plum garden, the way the plum bloom, those clear and glittering white, in my heart fell a petal pink memory. Gently research a pool of ink, before the winter has not gone far, into the plum fragrance, those love, always. The most profound love, according to the warmth of the time, for you, book a Quemei snow love song.
The years have passed, and the wind and dust have changed. A heart, walked through the watery years and a season, had written in the spring of March scorching peach blossom, read in the summer of the day long hedgerow no one over, only dragonflies nymphs fly. Also in the fall leaves fluttering when the feelings given to the blue water and wind, in the winter snow drifting when looking at the night sky. The edge, in a thought, there are tears, even if a margin accompanied by bitter and helpless, but it is given the deepest flavor of emotion.
Thousands of wind and moon, the end of the world can not withstand the indifferent, some of the beautiful walk through the end can not become the life of the mountains and rivers in the moon. Will those sweet or sadness in mind, perhaps this world there is no separation and get together, only because of love and refused to wither the heart, in the moonlight tender longing. I have no desire, the heart in, the years will not be old.
(Photo courtesy of the Internet)
Emotional tutor wind language, may the world's lovers no longer be trapped in love