In the spring of that year, when the wind was beautiful, you walked on a stone bridge with a blue oil-paper umbrella in your hand, and with the gentle wind under your feet, you walked slowly from afar, and when I came to your place, you were long gone.
I remember the first time you came to this city, the first time you and I met, we saw each other as before, sat together and talked about the ambition in our hearts until dawn, and did not feel sleepy. At that time, you and I were so excited, I finally met my confidant, and that feeling was a pity for each other, it was too beautiful.
I often imagine that you are on the other side of the mountain, in the spring breeze and the heat, we are like the kites that flew away on the other side of the mountain, but they hovered high in the mountain sky. However, you are only in a hurry, hurrying to go, like a thousand-year-old moment, suddenly have a re-burning passion, but you don't know where to fly how much, how much there is.
On the other side of the mountain is a pond, and we often come here quietly in the dead of night to talk about the years.
It is now winter, and the fragrance of osmanthus flowers in the courtyard has hung on the treetops of the yard. The night air carries a faint fragrance, and the mountain air is fresh and natural, which is the floral fragrance of fragrant mountains.
A little cold tonight? I can't say it anymore, because you and my lover are a bit like good memories of childhood.
Tonight I am quietly thinking of you, thinking of you, thinking of your laughter, thinking of your beauty.
At this moment, the cinnamon fragrance fluttered on the edge of the sky, wafting out a piece of incense.