Standing still, low eyebrows, herbs, under the oblique sun, a faint cold, soaked in the heart. The flowers are still blooming, the bright colors are swaying in the warm wind, and the feelings are still there. At the edge of the curtain, a string of missing bells has been gently tapped.
Follow the red-paved paths and trace the memories left behind in the woods. The running water is pulled by the evening wind, and the sound outside the natural sound is lifted. In the days after you left, do you know how I think of you?
The moment you turned, my heart was broken into pieces of withered petals. I can no longer relive the sweet fragrance of yesterday, the shyness revealed in that look back, drifting into injuries in the autumn wind, who is buried by Qianying?
It is always after the leaves have fallen that it will be found that the spring has long gone, and it will always be until all the flowers are thankful, and it will be understood that the face in the mirror is getting thinner and thinner.
Regarding your happiness, whether you can still find someone who loves you more than I do in this life, when you look back at me from afar in the golden autumn season, the maple leaves are red, and the begonias are still there.
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