The rain turns cold, everything grows, the drizzle of light rain is everywhere like talking, and in the last days of the year, beauty has hope.
The fog is thick, the emotions are thick, how many years do not know the sorrow, and the last brightness left in time.
No matter how high the sky is, we are not as good as ever, smelling the flowers and sleeping until dawn.
Only looking forward to the years to come, the sweetness is still the same, the dream is still there, and I will always be my own sun.
The change of seasons is always determined by the degree of people's mood, so we can only use it to transform our mood, happy or sad, for our own initiatives.
Time has not changed slightly, only the comings and goings of everything in the world.
The grass and trees rejoice, the world gathers and disperses, the crying and laughter follow the shadows, and it is impossible to speak out wherever it flows.
How many poetry articles in the world have written the four seasons in a dazzling and beautiful way, and how many years in the world are people's wishes.
At this time, outside the window, there is a cold shadow, the wind has stopped a little, the sun may have given itself a holiday and has not appeared, but the temperature of the world is so cold that it is rubbing hands and feet to roast the fire for warmth.
I still remember when I was young, I sat with my family next to the charcoal roasting brazier, some of the charcoal was flammable, and the fire reflected the light, as if I longed for a better life. Some charcoal smoke gradually rose, and people's tears filled their eyes, like the smoke in the dust, hitting the deepest part of their hearts.
At that time, I was still a cute child, with an innocent romance and a curious heart.
I will ask my parents, I want to buy new clothes for the New Year, when I will go, what snacks are I going to buy...
Naïve children are always the deepest warmth in the hearts of their parents, even if they are sad in their hearts, the money for the New Year goods is still in the heart.
Years later, I had my own child, and the child asked me as I had done, and I was like my parents, even if I was a little confused about the current life, I was still smiling, touching his little head, and then looking into the distance.
Whoever has never had a naïve romance, who is who, in the end, even if there is some pity, or as always smiling into the yang?
Hope is always the light that lies ahead, guiding us not to be afraid of cold and warmth, and will eventually reach the place where our hearts and minds are thinking.
Winter is an aftertaste day, brew a pot of tea, burn a cup, a warm stove, and take some colorful candy melon seeds, while eating and warming up while reminiscing.
The past is too deep, the memory is too shallow, and the bits and pieces that have been and lost seem to be impatient with the aftertaste.
Hurry, too hurry, some things are so hurried that people can't remember it.
Calm down, drink a cup of tea, take a warm, think again, or powerless to return.
I don't want to say sorry, and I don't want to think about how it was in the first place, as long as it has ever appeared in our lives, I think, that is the best value it has ever had.
And it, I think, has long been gathered into a piece of warmth, blooming like a flower in our hearts, soft and sweet.
Winter love, slightly warm into the sun, the heart is longing, the smile is as charming as ever.
In this life of a person, the past is uncertain, the smoke and rain are deep, and it is already a profound thing that can come out of the mind intermittently.
Our hearts are very large and can accommodate hundreds of rivers, but our hearts are very small, and there is only so much capacity that can coexist with the mind.
Perhaps, picking up and laughing and losing everything while walking is the best way for us to walk in the pursuit and treasure.
All that has been had, whether sad or joyful, many years later, is the most beautiful experience, and these experiences, like warmth, gather into sunshine, and in our hearts and minds, there is a gathering and dispersion.
Whatever it is, when we look back on the past, we are like that innocent child, smiling as ever, there is no wind and frost, and the singing of laughter in vain is the happiest image.
Author's profile: Jingjing years, like warm and beautiful sentences, although eating fireworks in the world, but like simple and carefree!