It rained again outside the window, accompanied by bursts of thunder. Leaning against the window, the speeding vehicles splashed one after another in the rain, and birds twittered under the eaves, disturbing my thoughts. Heart, can not calm down. After the wind, with a trace of coolness, I returned to the table and turned over an old diary.
Rain, patter, rustle, old diary, has been covered with dust, the paper has begun to turn yellow, so inadvertently turned. In the middle of the page, there is a withered and withered gardenia, the withered and yellow leaves are sandwiched in the pages, and the meridians and collaterals on the leaves are clearly visible. I gently picked up, gently sniffed, the faint fragrance, lingering in the nose, following this fragrance, memory of those or bright or sad thoughts, then slowly warm in the ticking rain.
In May, there is a picture of gardenia blooming ahead of time, white flowers and flower bones dotted between the green leaves, bursts of aroma, refreshing and pleasant. You trot, gently pick up one, slightly hold up its petals, the rich petals seem to be like a girl's face painted pink, particularly white and slippery, you slightly droop your eyelids, lower your head, a strand of hair hanging from your ears, and you have no time to scruple. You take a deep breath, as if to suck all the aroma into your heart and indulge in it. Dressed in plain clothes, with long hair like ink on your shoulders, you are particularly beautiful in the flowers in the sun. Noble and elegant, spotless.
You sent me a message, "Sister, I took a lot of gardenias and sent them to you." you know I like gardenias, so you sent me pictures of gardenias of different shapes and postures, as well as you in the sea of flowers. Far away at the end of the world, you, a greeting, a virtual hug, let me happy to forget the illness, forget the melancholy in the rainy season.
You in the sea of flowers, light, quiet and elegant; shallow, gentle and graceful, just like the blooming gardenia, I seem to smell the familiar faint fragrance, the gentle wind through the leaves, pervading its fragrance in every corner, the fragrance of flowers is light and long.
I like gardenia, you say, peony has elegant beauty, rose has delicate and charming state, lotus has quiet and leisurely shape, plum blossom has the bone of proud snow in the wind, and you only love gardenia. I said, I like its pure taste, elegant but not vulgar, clean but not beautiful, I like to clip it into the pages, let the flowers accompany for life; I like to take it with me, fragrance around the nose, happy every day.
To keep a flower in the heart is to keep a memory; to leave a flower in the page of the book is to leave the whole season. Blooming season, with sunshine-like warmth, every flower is sweet, every flower is warm, shallow fragrance lingers in my heart, even if the season passes, it will stay fragrant at the bottom of my heart.
Flowers come and go at a certain time, some people, like the wind, the wind has no trace, leaving only memories; some people, like rain, sunny after the rain, just wet the heart; some people, like flowers, flowers bloom for a moment, but bloom. Whether in full bloom or withered, on the way to come or go, maybe just for a moment, a little joy and moved, lingering in life, or light or thick, do not want to forget. It is still fragrant for a long time.
A meet, an encounter, beautiful once, bright years. Mountain journey, water journey, inadvertently, harvest too much happiness, moved and joy, those through the silhouette of life in the memory is still as new. Although the time is no longer young, although the time is far away. Although the end of the dust is like a dream, thin as smoke, several ups and downs, like waving the wind at the bottom of the sleeve, a faint wisp of incense, but floating in the depths of the years. Qing shallow years, those flowers in the time, "scattered as mud to make dust, only fragrance as usual".
The flowers bloom for only one season, but they are in a cycle. The flowers in the years are in full bloom season after season. All the flashy, such as gorgeous fireworks, the moment of stunning fleeting. Understand in the experience, experience in the ups and downs, in indifferent to let go, an insipid, a warm, slowly learn to adapt, learn to cherish. Those joys and sorrows in life gather and disperse, success or failure, bitter and sweet, like the catkins of a tree, people pass with the wind, the body is far away from the flowers, only the fragrance and darkness float by. A beautiful warmth in the years, lingering in the fingertips, into poetry, into rhyme, into the most beautiful scenery in life.
The twists and turns of life, there are always some scattered do not belong to us, there are always some people we are doomed to miss, untouchable beauty such as a faint fragrance in life, a faint wisp of incense, floating in a deep dream, around in the passage of time. Waiting for the prosperity to come to an end, fine memories of fleeting time, incense wrapped around the heart, whispering with time, drinking with the years, shallow joy.
Flowers Xie residual red, incense stained with mud and dust. In May, it is green into the eye, hot and dry. Ticking on the window in a rainy day is a cool summer, passing through my fingertips and going back and forth in the fleeting years of memory. Did not see gardenia blooming, but there is fragrance floating by. The years are still quiet, Qin warm Enron.
Push the window, early sunny after the rain, gardenia blooming season, fragrance faint. Pick a warm, not in the hair; carry a wisp of beauty, through the years; cut a touch of time, write down the fleeting time. In the years, there is still a wisp of fragrance, I am here, you have been here, a period of time, warm and beautiful.
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