Waiting for you to come to a spring flower event.

The most beautiful than the human April day, has always been like spring, like the bright spring, the warmth of spring, spring mountain flowers in full bloom, spring drizzle. Every spring, looking back, always a piece of Yan Yan, even sleeping in the peach blossom, will open bleary eyes, looking left and right.

Like in the poetic spring, bathing in the warm sunshine, breathing the shallow fragrance of flowers and plants. Often standing in front of that old house, let the distant wind set off the concern of the corner of clothes, a period of dusty old things, buckled the lonely heartstrings, the bottom of the heart of the bright, opened a brilliant. How many throbs, how many thoughts, all pour the city in the wind.

A touch of the delicate and beautiful peach blossom, slightly tipsy face, who for whom promised a pool of warmth, who for whom the heart is as brilliant as flowers; whose footsteps are drifting away in time, whose waiting in the years without remorse. In Fangfei in April, the hope of a lotus plant is planted at the bottom of the eyes and blossoms in the heart.

Ancient city, long alleyway, when I met the fragrance of a flower, the yearning in my heart is also burning. In the lonely time, gazing at a passing wind moon, there is always something on my mind, singing repeatedly in the spring. A peach blossom blossoms in my heart, in the misty rain and setting sun, will you still measure the way I look at you?

Gentle breeze, floating catkins, those distant years full of ten miles of warm spring breeze, the encounter by the peach blossom stream that year, the achievement of youth persistent watch. Miss, into the wind, sprinkled between the eyebrows, as gentle as water, as long as a dream, gently caressing the tentacles of memory, the deep feelings flowing from the fingertips can be turned into colorful butterflies, lightly in your dream?

In the context of spring, it is the flower language that the wind can never understand. Stranded shore, full of my waiting, is not because the heart is filled with a miss, my figure will be so lonely, when the breeze around the shoulder, but do not know who to talk about fleeting time. Standing in the broken shadow of time, let that corner of worry, in a traces of ink stains in the gentle growth.

Walking on the strangers of the world of mortals, who do not have a shallow encounter, deep acquaintance, a touch of love, deeply hidden. It can not be said that meeting you is a beautiful legend, but you are the most beautiful gift in time. A loving encounter is a life-long nostalgia, for you, will miss hidden into the flying petals, just want to be able to gently fall in front of your window when the wind passes.

Sniffing the smell of the sun, picking up the fragrance of flowers all the way, constant Acacia for years, flying in every dream, deep in memory, there is always an unfading time, along the traces of flowers, looking for the dark fragrance in your sleeves. Across the water, how much I want to be the peach blossom in your palm, pour all my tenderness, in exchange for your shallow gaze.

Flowers bloom for a season, love warm Sansheng, thousands of sails fall, I am still crazy and so on, those such as the wind of the past, still verdant in the memory. The world is so big, the sea of people is also vast, if there is one person to read, the heart will not be alone, think of you, as if the whole world has become gentle. When a wisp of flower fragrance permeates your heart, do you also listen to the sound of flowers in the distance?

Spring is so beautiful, missing so long, the warmth of interlocking fingers, the fragrance of a tree blooming, a misty rain of the city, a gentle flow in the heart. Stand in the spring and think, let the tenderness be clear under the tip of the pen, meet you again in the text, and write that gentle story into the April poem. Write poems for you when the flowers are in bloom, and your shadow in the lines is also faintly fragrant.

Suddenly remembered that sentence: wait until the spring breeze, carry flowers to see you, now, the flowers are full, I write for you in the rain of apricot flowers, put the spring seeds on the paper, carve you in the spring. Wind, across the sea of people, through the mountains, I am still, in yesterday's loneliness, obsessively guarding a smile Enron, the breeze is silent, I whisper to a flower, in the name of spring, ask you to come to that colorful flower.

Author: Apple