Falling flowers make a long life

The east wind is near the window, a touch of concern is tied in the eyebrows and eyes, and the falling flowers float away with the wind, withering the two sides of the world into a hurry. A curtain of thoughts, in the rhythm of ink and wash, frowns and sighs, the dried past, like a simple and thorough chapter, describes the light and shadow of fleeting years. One hundred years of life is the most beautiful and moving time in one's life. If, the flowering season in one's year is the most beautiful and blooming. In the increasing days, transformation and waiting continue to blossom one by one. You are helpless, persistent and calm. Do you understand?

Life is like a flower blooming and falling. No flower can have the whole spring, but each flower has its own fragrance. I am suffering in the heat and cold winter to present the most beautiful when you bloom; No one can own the whole world, but everyone will have their own feelings and pride. I dance alone on the edge of the years. The beautiful shadows dance drunk and the falling flowers fly for you. The flowers bloom in a moment, the fragrance fills the world, the happy time, and the words of spiritual perception also leap with joy. Some people love, some hurt, and some pity. It is the romantic color when the flowers bloom in spring, gorgeous and charming. However, a red face and a thin life can not withstand the mottling of time and the passage of time in the end. A gust of wind, a cold rain, when the wind chime rings, the petals fall and scatter on the paper. The fragrance stains the center of the eyebrow. At the moment of locking the eyebrow, I sigh secretly. Who knows? Who knows? Who pity me?

Bow your waist, pick up a handful of fallen flowers, lower your eyebrows and sniff, just to find the taste like the beginning, which is the most beautiful poetic fragrance. Borrow a wisp of breeze, pour out a lifetime of love, and go to a peach blossom garden. Peach blossoms are blooming, red and red. However, in the end, you disappear. Is it because we don't know each other enough or because the years are merciless? For you, I tasted all the sweets and bitters; For you, wait for the time to be thin, and burn all the lamps, do you know?

I hope that when the dust settles down and the sounds of nature are silent, I will tell my heart gently. I will gently stay with you in front of the flowers and under the moon, not asking about this life and the next life. I am helpless and helpless. At the most beautiful moment, the east wind pierces my ears, outside my dream, in my eyebrows and heart, the flowers fall on the ground, brushing my whole body still full. Since then, since then, my heart has been stranded, one after another, falling flowers, falling all over my eyebrows; Petal petal gags, scattered in the end of the world.

Don't miss each other and be thin, and don't miss each other and be broken. In that season, it was warm and soft, peach red all over the ground, the eyes conveyed the true feelings, the future of all kinds of customs and emotions could be carried on, and the worries floated away with one flower after another. Before spring was over, it was warm and cold at first. The falling flowers filled with worries had no choice but to say goodbye to the branches. Therefore, the sadness of parting has been deeply locked in my eyebrows ever since. The years have passed, and the years are in a hurry. Once the flowers were colorful, but in vain they met a cold rain. The prosperity dispersed, and the budding buds hid their faces and were ashamed. But an east wind took all the flowers and never returned. Dear, the flowers are blooming and falling, flying far away, and the fragrance is broken. Do you know? I am the only one who dances alone in the air, forever and persistently, clinging to my persistence, falling in love and remembering alone, all the time, just for that curtain of dreams

Holding a plain pen, on a sunny day, with a tender feeling and the faint fragrance of falling flowers, I will once again step into the city where your words are swaying, smell the strong attachment in my heart, drop ink in the silent joy, and any missing will flow into a clear spring, wandering in a lotus. The flowers are blooming, the butterflies are dancing, the flowers are falling, and the most beautiful thing that remains in my heart is also the brocade book between you and me. The words convey a few tenderness, which is implicit, pure and poetic. This is also your unique romance.

Hold a bosom of Acacia, snuggle up in the gentle time, take tenderness as paper, years as paper, flowers as fingers, and write for you in plain days!

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