Window sill with falling flowers

When it rains, it is also the season when flowers and plants are fragrant. The window in memory is hung with purple curtains, and the window sill is full of orchid. The wind passes by and the window sill of Falling Flowers is full of fragrant worries. Here are your breath and my affection; The poems written for you also have the sweet fragrance of dreams. Perhaps it was too urgent to walk. A yarakai heart piece was thrown into the wind and accumulated elegance and beauty in the dust of years. A purple swallow crossed a beautiful arc, crossed the rolling mountains, crossed the lake of Xiumei Xiangxi, landed in front of your window, and brought a fragrant Miss, on the background of time, a piece of Azure was left. There are many defects in life, such as those petals that wither with time and the oath of drying with petals; The person who is with time and those poems that are too late to write. Imagine with time, will the fragrance of the past be left in the future? Missing raindrops, woven into a fresh Gallery, hanging on the branches in front of the window, a ray of breeze over the Lotus Pond, a string of worries in the rain. When the fence falls, who looks at each other gently, sings a song of missing rain fragrance, and who is full of expectations, making a trace of green hair become vicissitudes of life. Tonight, the thoughts I planted all over the world may, one day, release a piece of Zen fragrance. Who, standing in the window after the rain, regards a person’s figure as your appearance; Who, seeing a scenery, reminds me of your figure and walks through time slowly, in fact, there is only one name that I often think. She will make you smile brightly, cry sadly, deep pain and warm happiness. Looking at the window sill covered with petals, looking at the ferry of life with memories of previous life. At night, lovesickness has no shore. In my heart, there is a window of silent lingering. Think more, let the floating heart perch on your pillow, from then on, no longer lonely. To come to a shallow edge, how deep feeling, sitting in the depth of time, salvage the past, watching you walk gently, and walk away quietly. In a trance, my eyes gazed with deep affection have not been returned yet, stayed in that windy rainy day. Tonight, you come gently through the quiet moonlight and walk into my heart’s poem line. In the faintly visible light, you condense a fragrant past with the curve of life and follow the track of memory, glaze with the loneliness of missing. Today is very short, tomorrow is very long, we look across the sky for a long time; Life is very short, time is very long, we need each of us to taste with a smile. Who is happy about a past? Whose words are beautiful? The wind of the season came as promised, just like a warm story laid in time. A drop of rain fell into one side of the water inkstone and was dyed into a green lotus in the wind. Pleasant flavor of the ink point Danqing opened the Xuanyuan courtyard and the wind passed, the fragrance filled the sky. Think about it. In This flower season, hide the sorrow, enjoy the Locust and read the moon with you under the vine, listen to the wind and rain under the moon, and in this way, merge each other into the breath in life. In the time of blooming flowers, walking in the deep rain Lane, the past stranded on the green brick Daiwa was engraved with the expectation of fragrance and the place beyond the reach of the heart, slowly accumulate the memories of the years, gently rub them into the wind, find a comfort for yourself in the long wind, and put away the overflowing worries quietly. One day, we will slowly forget the lost footprints, slowly no longer remembered. Time Glides like flowing water, and finally learns to be quiet, learn to put down, life, what should be put down without choice, what should be owned cannot be given up. The former determines how easy you can live, while the latter determines how far you can go. The impossible dream, it is better to put it down gently, not sad or unhappy. Hide the vicissitudes of wind and rain when the flowers bloom again, just for the sake of walking on the road full of sunshine easily. The cycle of life has always been on the road. Through the night, every chapter of life is written, not to remember, but only for the mark that we once met, the sandalwood that is reproduced, in the broken sentences with thousands of lines of tears, I read the lost poetry and looked for traces of past in the continuous breath at midnight. A window of mind, a period of time, feeling the soft intestines of the dust like water. Looking at the window, the sky was full of flowers flying. The years were a gathering of water and water, a rush of sadness and happiness, and a boundless season of flowers. Only in the dark temperature of midnight can we feel the joy of falling flowers and flowing water. Where the breeze blows, what else can we never forget? Only time, still walking slowly, thin water flow is long. Gently pick up the agarwood of the years, in the sound of a flower, freehand brushwork a story of ups and downs, a window of depression, lingering how much joy of blooming flowers, and how much melancholy of falling flowers. A period of time, unconsciously, has left in suddenly looking back, and the dream of living in words has become more and more far away. I don’t know whether the half roll of Orchid fragrance in front of the window, like the original appearance, is blooming with intoxicating fragrance. Text/listen to heart words QQ1178127788 likes (prose editor: Ke Er) Phoenix mountain spring outing

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