More and more like quiet, deep in the years, listen to a song, let the heart walk in the past, in the alley of time, watching the shade climb all over the old wall, with light ink, to the breeze and the moon, write a flower letter to you.
Such as the time of water, borrow the long embankment weeping willow as a pen, pick Xizi water as ink, wait for ten miles of lotus incense, wait for the breeze into the rain, raise a wisp of fragrance, bloom step by step. Time is old, but more and more soft, bright, happy, so that simple happiness, flow in the world of fireworks.
The flowers in the yard are blooming, and the leaves are more and more green and moving, which makes people feel cool and light, can you let me sit in the depths of the flowers, watching the firewood, rice, oil and salt, waiting for the person who comes home late?
Summer flowers are in full bloom, and some have even withered. I want to pick up a pen to write a poem and keep the fragrance of the past in the poem, but I can no longer write the colorful spring of that year, nor the melancholy under the oil paper umbrella in the rain lane in the south of the Yangtze River, but I can be so happy and clear. Write down the meeting with you in simplicity.
Every season, you like to pick a flower, insert it in the vase of time, raise a pot of spring, and the day will smell sweet.
Perhaps the mood has changed, began to like old things and things, such as old porcelain bowls, jade worn for a long time, all have a kind of beauty of vicissitudes of life.
In the silent time, the old introverted, the old deep, because of company, and more moving. As I look forward to the feelings, with the growth of age, no longer covet those dust in life, but like the existence of a long stream of water.
Some people say that people who write poems should have love in their hearts, just like flowers and fragrance in their hearts. I seldom write poetry, because my love has nothing to do with poetry.
True love is not poetry, nor just warm words of love, but the feelings precipitated by the years. It has the friendship of mutual support, the understanding of knowing each other, and the affection that never leaves and never gives up. Reading and appreciation of American articles
There is a lot of beauty in this world, the most beautiful is the lamp under the eaves of the dusk, the hands holding each other, the deep and shallow years you have gone through, and the way you grow old in memory.
Ordinary people, a porridge, a meal, a window January, for a person, embroidered time under the lights of dusk, embroidery to and fro, embroidered firewood, rice, oil and salt, embroidered each other, embroidered your eyebrows and eyes, an embroidery, is a lifetime.
Read a word, read a paragraph, don't miss it. And you, folding willow in spring, watching lotus in summer, watching chrysanthemum in autumn, listening to snow in winter, the years of life are very long, sometimes very short, instantly gone, however, very beautiful.
Often envy the ordinary alley fireworks family, chickens barking, children crying, think it is the most beautiful painting in the world, not careful, he became the person in the picture.
Every day, with a joyful heart, I watch the flowers bloom on the branches, watch the sun shine on the window lattice, watch the wind and butterflies chase, and listen to the birds singing under the eaves.
Light years, there is a happy heart, ushered in the spring, will be clear; ushered in the summer, the flowers will be far away; ushered in the autumn, will be full; ushered in the winter, will be quiet. In order to experience the beauty under the May River, the purity of the lotus in June, the fragrance of sweet-scented osmanthus in August, and the warmth of the warm sun in October.
Time is always gentle to me, give me flowers, give me sunshine, let me in the best years, meet a happy person, let me with a tranquil heart, guard a person, know in the years, end with time.
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