Sometimes, when you approach the side of the road, you can see some weeds that have withered. Those scattered petals, so gorgeous, but in my eyes emitted a menacing fragrance, so intoxicating.
It's spring again. I walked into the world of flowers and found that those little flowers were actually snow-white flowers, so light and so feminine. But in my heart, there is an indescribable affection and love. My love, maybe this is the silent flower of a flower that loves a small flower that others don't understand!
Suddenly a gust of wind blew, and the petals fell randomly, and the small petals fell one after another, like rain. Flying, also flying, silent. Overnight, I saw the little flowers on the side of the road blooming and flourishing. There are flowers to see, not only is it fragrant.
By the small river on the side of the road, endless greenery sweeps by. A small petal competes to open. The pale purple petals are extremely youthful. Some have withered, and some are still so indifferent and beautiful.
In my heart, I have a deep sense of regret and longing.
I know that this spring is by my side and has pulled me back from the age of forty-seven back to the beginning of my life. Then, there is no chance to see this relationship again.
This spring is the blossom of my thoughts.
The beauty of spring is picturesque. Little by little, at your fingertips.
Little by little, it flows down your fingertips.
Involuntarily, involuntarily, the heart follows the pen. Inadvertently, the heart is drunk; inadvertently, it is drunk. What is lost is the way forward. I knew, inadvertently, that I had missed the other shore.