Hold hands with you and grow old together

Half a piece of Zen is full of paintbrush, singing into the poem for a thousand years.

The silver plate is full of Acacia tears, dancing heartstrings under the acacia tree

Hope the moon drunk green plum wine, Luohua Creek read still.

A pillow fragrance spectrum Qingyun, ink light fall a few years.

-- inscription

Night breeze, Sheng song long, sitting idle Xuan window, a touch of gentle Yuehua infiltrating the book, a curtain of silhouette beautiful night. Leaning on the background color of fleeting time, the touching of a piece of paper leaps in the heart, those thoughts that are attached to the gap of time rise and fall like a tide, and the worries hidden in the veins at the bottom of the wrist are difficult to fade and difficult to accept. Those words that carry the sadness and joy of time sort out the past. Talk about the ballad of the season, compose the time into a pillow of delicate fragrance, and let the hand scroll of the season restore the original you, constantly blooming the color of hope.

When I sleep in your Zen poems, yearning and I go to sleep and enter the heaven where your words rise, and the moonlight pours out my heart with you in the poetry. In the carved window, my thoughts linger and float countless times. When will the thoughts with tears come to an end? That endless waiting, ah, when is a? The green plum wine in the cup covets the thoughts, the candle haunts the withered red makeup, the lines of clear words lying across the plain paper are gracefully lonely time, I look at your starry sky through the fragrant ink, perhaps, at this time you have entered a sweet nightmare, but I am entangled in your poems at this end of the starry sky, wandering and dreaming again and again. The growing love passes through the radius of the heart above the moon, looking forward to meeting your heart under this dome and walking with you in this cool moonlight.

Time holding a long concern through the branches of the years, I use thousands of years of waiting to allow you a box of infatuation, burning the flowering period of your life. Beauty refers to the old, red makeup faded, through twists and turns, you have been in the Peach Blossom Garden waiting for me to wash the lead. A heart returns to its original nature, and a love is more real and thick after it is faded to vanity. What kind of paper can you use to put this profound affection on the ink paper? How affectionate the past must be stitched together in order to brighten this beautiful line of poetry? Affectionately to the flowers, infatuated to the moon, suddenly look back, only to know that love has known the importance, drunk to know the wine is strong, through the time such as water, the life of that infatuated past washed into a touch of eternal green, halo dyed into a rich picture.

If I were your thousand-year-old dream, can you read my missing all over the world? If my waiting misses your blooming period, will you wait for me to come back in the place full of falling English? If countless times of meeting finally become a thing of the past, is yesterday's parting for the reunion of today? If time is devoid of the tenderness of the past year, am I still your unfading memory? Even if the sea forgets the mulberry field, the turntable of fate stops, don't forget each other in the light years, don't let the lonely heart put on frost, don't let miss wander in the desolation. If I can't get to the other side of my dream all my life, I will also plant a lifetime of infatuation, a lifetime of waiting, and a wish of a note.

The mountains are rugged and the water is slim, and the wild geese cross two or three lines, suddenly losing their flying companions, and the cold breeze of the moon is also heartbroken.

How many years of wind have blown away each other? How many mandarin ducks are there at the end of the heavy mountain? How many unexpected love encounters hang in the quarter moon? How many long waiting has been written into a brocade book of wild goose characters? Only hope, wander with you in the Chinese and American characters, snuggle with each other. Dream, countless times with you love Loulan, through modern and ancient times, and your desert solitary smoke, riding horse Yang whip, with you indulge in the landscape, walking around the world. Waiting for Yi to have long hair, and Jun celadon wine cup, lightly poetic feelings.

I am an infatuated white fox, coming and going in cold and summer, waiting by your side, watching the sky with infatuated eyes, just waiting for you to come back with dust and smoke, to glance back, to open the veil of my yearning, and to awaken the silent red makeup by the sweet Ma Ming. Who has been defeated by Tianya? Who is late for a season of waiting? If you get the promise of a third life, why should you be afraid to leave the injury? The love of a thousand years remains the same, the love of a thousand years remains the same, and there are no regrets in this life. In the world, only love is not old, only love is eternal, throw away the golden clothes, only wish to be old with you!

In the moonlight, lying in this sea of flowers, gazing affectionately with you, clinging to your arms, clutching this hard-won love, tears burst into burning peach blossoms. For you, I come across the mountains and rivers, across the space, through the secular world, clasping the window of your soul, and approaching each other according to the breath of deja vu. You are the warmest encounter in my life, you give me a unique emotion, bright flowers of my life. There is a kind of love, has nothing to do with marriage, has a kind of love, has nothing to do with the wind and moon, only has an affair with words, is the softness of the heart, is the brilliant corner of the eye, is the companionship of every minute.

Prosperity falls to the end, lovesickness bends the brow. Pick an Acacia, dye a finger fragrance, wind tears lingering, flowers to incense full clothes. Who is waiting under the acacia tree for thousands of years? Who plays the strings drunkenly in fireworks Rain Lane? Love has been to the bone, the heart has been read, you so gently into my dream, into my vicissitudes of life. Although the end of the world is far away, the heart is near, fate is sooner or later, there is no concern for far and near, to meet is the most beautiful, to know each other is to be warm. With my trembling pen and ink, I read a piece of paper under the book.

Dream light call Yang Chunxue, frown and smile, Acacia Qingyun cut constantly, full string mournful Fu poem. How sad is the spring water? When will the bright moon be full? Willow catkins shake the world of mortals, affectionately print water curtains, Acacia where to send? Drunk and asked all over the sky.

Life, may not be perfect, life, there is always a touch of green swaying the appearance of youth, there is always a kind of love, regardless of the wind and moon, only fleeting, there is always a truth in every ray of morning light, in every ray of sunset, depend on each other for a hundred years, the end of the world is also warm.

The heart is kind, the life is happy and warm, the heart is strong, the life is bright and colorful, let the soul grow in the wind and rain, mature in the sun, with a touch of indifferent smile, in the face of this beautiful and magical world, not delicate, not deliberately, stand into a unique landscape.

Dear, let's meet and grow old together, let's taste the strong feeling of the breeze and jade dew together in the broken shadow of time, let this warm feeling cross the pillow side in time, and bloom into a pure white flower that will never grow old. Let me hold your skirt, chase the haze, pillow your arms, collect joy. I would like to accompany you, twist a wisp of fragrance into the bosom, pull a poem line to dream, a green tea, a cup of light wine, coarse tea and light rice, cloth clothes this life. Hold your hand, through the four seasons of life, through the years of flowers blossom, hand in hand with you, grow old together.

Author: lan Linger QQ:1955758814