Then I will become a little bit of the character, with the bloom of pear blossoms, in the spring rhyme feet draped in the morning sun in the wind, jump, fly.
I am a point in the character, a leap, and then jump on the bud of the willow tree. I happily flowed my long hair with the long willow branches, and my green silk and wicker love together, weaving green dreams. The dream is rising in the sunlight, blooming with white tidbits flying in the sky. My wife and I imagined the magnificence of willows between heaven and earth, and talked about the white world that belonged only to the two of us. In that world, we invite the stars, we invite the moon, we invite the breeze, we invite them to share our love story.
Oh, almost forgot, we also invited my mother-in-law, my wife's parents, so that they can also witness the sweetness of our love. The three old men have embarked on a long journey, and after walking for a long time, they will not get lost, right? The wife said that the Qingming Festival is coming, and it is time to plant willows. Then fold three willows and lead the three old people to see how happy and sweet their children are now, so that the old people will no longer worry.
The breeze, the long willow, and the morning sun were together, and the three old men were also there. They wandered through the fields in the breeze, chatted happily under the long willows, and enjoyed their time in the morning sun.
The days are plain, the plain is brilliant; life is sweet, sweet is called music; life is eternal, eternity is the truth. Just like today's park, every grass and tree is real, and every flower and tree is true love. Then generate yourself into a leaf on the tree, then grow yourself into a grass under your feet, even if it is condensed into a drop of nectar in the morning light, or even solidified into a grain of earth on the ground, returning to the existence and non-existence of the natural world, casting eternity in time, changing roles in eternity, and showing a colorful self in change.
Spring in the park is prone to colorful and erratic dreams, just like the rising sun probing the brain on the willow branches, in the flowers, probing the river, sprinkling the seeds of her wind everywhere. It made me restless and emotionally unstable. My love spills out in this fresh air, my pain is strung on the silk thread of the morning sun, my beauty blooms among the white pear blossoms, and my joy floats on the leaping willow branches.
Look, there is a piece of begonia in front of me, sentimental I am empathetic again.