Some people say that the peach and willow is spring, and I think, there are your days, to where it is spring, the sunrise in the branches to play, I planted flowers in front of the court, careful, there are infinite depth of love, some people say that there is a temperature on the heart, there will be a season with each other, and in my opinion, it is because of each other in the heart, the heart will only have the temperature. I have always felt that I am far away from romance, but fortunately there are you, thousands of prosperity on earth, thousands of gestures, cooking tea and ink, horizontal blowing jade flute, that is nothing but a drunkenness of the wine today, you are, I feel the warmth of the sunshine, the heart wants something.
The east wind has the love of a long time together, in front of the courtyard of the green stone road, has walked countless times, come and go, and I did not listen carefully, stepped over the threshold of the season, overnight, spring as if the delicate woman, wisps of wind to meet the face, water across the shallow serenity, the warmth of the sunlight gently thrown to the window, sparse shadows across the sky, and zero times to give birth to a picture scroll. At this time if the window is gently buttoned open, you can meet with the warmth of the sun, witness the wind and the sunset of the two trails stretching into the distance: one is a dusty, one is the human world, copying the colors of spring, look at the fragrance of the garden, how many beautiful spring colors of life, I can sit on the title page of the time, to enjoy the enjoyment of it?
Sometimes I think I am too obsessive, always like to indulge themselves in the red dust, do not allow others to come in and not allow themselves to go out, and finally the feelings have become shallow, do not dare to easily go to say love, the words have become a little light, and then in the light of the self-consolation. Now I don't know how many old things I remember, I feel that many are gradually forgotten. Although the red dust is ten thousand feet away, there are always some love, is separated from the thousands of mountains and thousands of water, people in the end still have to withstand the test of this disorientation of the red dust, in order to cultivate the fruit, in order to like the people, stopping over the scenery in the heart, because that all the way to the accompaniment of the warmth of thousands of people on the earth.
Time has passed a long time, just want to write some gentle little word, round and round, or some caught off guard, and the tide is rising and falling, unchanged is this ordinary life. Across a thousand landscapes, miss a person, suddenly in front of the flavor of butterflies and flowers, inside the heart of the theft, as a few years ago, the snow scene as stunning. Long road roaming Hao Hao, may be those of us who have been salvaged by the time passers-by, are adapted to loneliness, occasionally in their own hours of silence and joy, planting some flowers and grasses, raise a cute little animal, and then idly write a few paragraphs of warmth of the small words, other people see a tree blossoms is a beautiful sentence, and I have a peaceful life is a dull life, behind the words of the hidden loneliness, but they know, only the heart know. The impermanence of the world, no matter how you get warm, perhaps will be stained with some cold, meet without words is to know, *** winter cold. If the world is too barren, the heart is too lonely, please walk with me in a paper scroll, a Queqing words, those warm words, enough to put those lost souls.
Probably because of the cold for some time, it will naturally think of that bright spring, want to see the mountain magnolia flowers, such as the spring breeze ten miles as stunning, the world of dust, the most beautiful is a flower smile, life in the flavor of a hundred, the deepest is the silence and joy. The wind is light at night, the night of love, deep love, bone love, the window of the bright moon, a quiet life, there is a person can guard, can read, that will be enough. Propped up a plain oil-paper umbrella, waiting for you, in that unusual alleyway, your crystal-like eyes, against the warmth of the world, through the spring and autumn, around the green water home.
It has always been thought that where there are flowers blooming, there will definitely be sunshine, which may be the flowers quietly opening in front of the window, or maybe the magnolia carefully cultivated in the courtyard, or maybe the surprise of a branch of red apricots outside the wall. On days when there is sunshine and the scent of flowers, the heart carries a touch of temperature, without words, but also deep love. Time casting soft place, there will be joy, but where you miss me, that is happy. I am in the bustling crowd, just because more than one look at you, from now on between the mountains and the water is no longer two two look at each other, the day and the moon can also be intertwined.
Time will be the days portrayed as a flower blossom, save a touch of spring color in the bottom of the heart, there will be some warmth, to comfort the young wandering. The first thing you need to do is to get the best out of your life, and then you'll be able to get the best out of your life.
Trees, grass, peach blossoms, but not as much as you smile. I have always thought that spring is a season of exuberance, suitable for a relaxing trip, looking for some love in the heart of the people, meet, is joy, is fate, even if the mountains are long and wide, as long as the heart of the expectations, will eventually arrive. The most beautiful earthly emotions, not flowers in front of the moon, but confidant know warmth, is a heart to another heart crossing, even if the depths of the cape, but also the end of the world as a neighbor, the most beautiful mood, is the prosperity of the blooming clean, how far the road, but also can not block the footsteps of the thoughts. I invite the spring wind to wake up a tree of peach blossoms, only to meet with you, meet in the spring.
It has always wanted to find a forever in the watery years, how far is forever. It is a touch of longing after a hundred turns, is a long poem written with the lover through the long years, is a thousand sails after you write for me on the pen. You know, I want to hold your hand, walk across the bridge, the bridge is green and fat, under the bridge is green water and mountains, one end of the bridge is the glory, the other end of the bridge is the years.
The years have no life, and have been y **** to treat. Although the northern dawn cold is not broken, if you are by my side, there will be a hundred flowers bloom, flowers and birds. The world is not as good as your company, whether it is poetry, or since the wind, you are in, it is a happy ending. Into the bone of the melting, in the heart of the home, want to go with you to the bridge to listen to the wind, see the sky of the moon, no matter how the years change, I have the same heart.