Late spring drizzle, tiger sniffing roses

"Drizzle Rose" | text: Liu Xi

"Because I love roses alone, I will see them in my dreams."

/01/

In the patio outside the window, there are many evergreen plants. There are green bamboo, cedar. In the middle of the aisle there was a rose trellis, already crawling full of roses, without a single gap. Immersed in the courtyard, suddenly born "green bamboo into the path, green lotus whisk clothes" fun!

Looking out the window, the patio is full of spring. The breeze enters the bamboo, the silk is buckled, and each bamboo leaf is a beating note, and the harmonious play plays a beautiful rhythm. The skinny cedar sits on the flower bed, the roots clinging to the soil. The branches and leaves are scattered with branches, and the figure of the mother is like a fairy wind Dao bone. Si SiJing, Yan can not think of Wang Wei's "Zhuliguan": "Sitting alone in the fence, playing the piano and whistling for a long time." The people of the deep forest do not know that the bright moon has come to take pictures. ”

The rose rack in the patio is a bit of fun. I love the roses of this rack alone. Inside the house for a long time, when I was tired, the faint fragrance came to my face and refreshed my heart. This incense is like the fragrance of a young girl's body, which arouses endless reverie, and from now on I will call you "daughter incense", which belongs only to my patent. The full shelf of roses, the "daughter incense" of the full courtyard can't help but think of the poem of Gao Biao of the Tang Dynasty: "The crystal curtain moves slightly, and the full shelf of roses is a courtyard of incense." ”

Roses crawl all over the wooden shelves, vines snake upwards, and the branches and leaves that climb on both sides cling to the shelves tightly, indestructible. The foliage hanging from the top of the shelf stretches freely, looking out over the scenery outside the patio. A gust of wind blew through, the full shelf of roses trembled, and a fine mark appeared between the leaves, like a young woman's skirt opening a corner, accompanied by a shyness.

The leaves of the rose are feathery and clustered together, covering the branches, and only the young branches grow outside the leaves. The dense rose rack attracts birds to stop and tease. The sun shone quietly on the rose shelf, and the full shelf of roses had a hint of drowsiness, and the posture was graceful and luxurious, more like a noblewoman, and the tired eyes were so charming.

/02/

Birds sing in the environment created by the rose stands. In the afternoon, in the sleep, I heard the gentle chirping of birds. No more sleepiness, looking out the window, there were three or two birds playing on the rose trellis. Wake up every morning to the sound of birdsong. At each twilight, watch the plants in the patio. On each night, feel the beautiful poetry of the moonlight shining on the patio. In fact, life is nothing more than that!

When a drizzle came, I found a poetry that shook my heart. The roses in the drizzle were hazy, like a boudoir girl separated by a layer of veil, holding a yellow scroll and accompanied by green lights. The green foliage grew greener under the moisture of the drizzle, and the flowers were dotted between the branches, like the red flowers of the bride's bun, which were far away from the cave flower candles. The roses in the drizzle are very moving. The petals are red and wet, like a beauty out of the bath. The drizzle fell lightly on the rose rack, silent! The rose flowers dipped in drizzle are exceptionally beautiful. The poetry of the moon and dusk, the foundation and rain, is in the unspoken!

Feel the poetry of the drizzle roses in the drizzle. In a dream in the night, a classical woman came to me and asked: It is a rose fairy. Because I love roses alone, I saw them in my dreams.

Waking up from a dream, he hurriedly paced under the rose rack. There was a very brightly blooming flower nestled in the branches, and the drizzle on the petals was so absorbed that she seemed to be blinking at me. Did the dream come true?

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author

Pen name: Liu Xi, my original intention of writing things is very simple, in order to grasp my own fleeting thoughts, in order to remember the small golden sentences I inexplicably blurted out

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