55. "When the Plum Blossoms Are Fragrant in February"
A night of gentle wind and drizzle, spring, light came. The flowers and branches outside the window are already unconcealed greenery, and they have fallen into the embrace of spring without understanding. I also had some old dreams. The long alley, the woman with the light shirt, the horseshoe pedaling on the bluestone slab, can there be a figure of your return? That dream that was many years ago, beautiful to this day. The love of the world is simple and beautiful. Because it is you, that glimpse of the great, you can also read it in your heart over and over again...
In Jiangnan in February, it is the opening season. Through the cold of winter, paint a red flower on the branches of spring, leaving the mark of wind and rain. A stroke of ink, a blossom of incense, a season of the city. And hang the thoughts under the warm sun, quietly condensed into whispers, and when you pass my spring, have you ever heard it?
The sunlight outside the window was so warm, so warm that my sorrow had nowhere to hide. I always hope that the words I write can be as graceful and feminine as the spring sunshine. Only sometimes, those watery moods will always inadvertently flow to the end of the pen and faint a piece of sadness.
The years of flowers have long passed, and there is still warmth in my heart about love. When standing in front of you, even if you miss it to the extreme, you will only replace it with silence; like a pink plum. Therefore, you always laugh at me and say that I am a fake guy. I love pens, with jumping tadpoles perceiving the years that have passed with you; like the sun, warms you and me.
You are a woman who has come in time, with a hot temperature. As elegant as plum and with a bit of vulgarity, fireworks, and a little rouge, feminine; not for dust, only for the heart to be clean and transparent fireworks. Taste all the fireworks in the world, and only pick glass on the strange.
Whether tomorrow is rainy or sunny, there will be flowers blooming. Whether you are there or not; come or not, I will be here waiting for you. I am not a poet, I only remember what you first saw, remember the warmth of the sun, remember the wind and rain, remember the poetic companionship of the trickle, remember what you said forever...
Draw a warm color, willing to accompany you to enjoy a round of bright moon, see a ride of crab leaves. Be a landscape that you can't forget at a glance, only put the real and simple little girl in the ink, condensed into words; In February, Nanjing, full of mountains and fields of plum blossoms are fragrant...