I am in the spring prose you walked through.

The river flows through the city with some strange light and shadow. At dusk during the day, a person walks in a rainy dream and goes to the sea. I am more like a river, watching the sunset glow in the distance, and colorful clouds floating in the cracks of the peaks. Outside the mountain is a cloud, and a cloud peak removes ink. The geese in the herringbone arrangement in the air can't smell the screams, as if the cheerful shadows are silent, and it seems that half of the sky is blue and the other half is as black as ever. I'm afraid that spring is so long, and it's so full to bow your head and look up.

It's as interesting as walking.

As usual, I walked alone near my home. Because I like quietness and beauty, I like what I see.

Since dusk, the crowds in the square have been in an endless stream. I'm used to where they are. I'm more concerned about the buds of willow trees by the river. If I can see the willow buds stretching, my heart will be pounding. Compared with the loud music of square dance, I hear the sound of spring piercing the skin. I glanced at the willow tree from a distance and then swam upstream.

The wild geese on both sides and the sky came into my eyes differently, and I met strange flowers and plants like a stranger. I feel inexplicably that the other side of the mountain is not a mountain, but a colorful stratus. I didn't even stop in front of a Huangmei tree, whose five petals were rich and fragrant. Fortunately, I smelled refreshing detachment in an ancient temple, and now the sky is all black, just like the sadness sprinkled on my head.

I looked up and saw the new moon, curved like spring water breaking ice, and the surface of the Yujiang River was like a cloud knife. Her brightness cut through the clouds, and the stars were too far away to get close. I really want to match a cloud knife to wrap the sharp light in winter. I watched the spring moonlight flow in, and my lightness dispersed with the wind. I wonder if my glance, the quiet surroundings, the wrinkles of water marks, the Yan Le you are looking for, and the spring of life can be painted in quicksand alone?

It turns out that I was in the spring you walked through.

It turns out that I was in spring when you left. I like to watch you wander slowly and put it on the roadside in front with a smile. You should be quiet and beautiful this spring, and I will walk around your skirt!