Light summer, nestled with a curtain of roses, the dream of red glass, perfumed in the wind, romantic June is charming, your appearance is like a jinser, with a gentle poetry lingering all the way to the scenery, like your agility and elegance, beautiful ripples of the heart lake. Flowing years, just like your gentleness, warm on the heart between the eyebrows, happiness is written on the face. - Inscription
There is love in life, let poetry flow, thoughts let two hearts stick together, walk through the red dust, cross the mountains and rivers, never separate, and rely on each other. Fanghua youth, only for you bright, like the feelings of snow, only for you brilliant, tender like water, shining in the light summer of the shanshan.
Gaze at you for a long time, know how to cherish and write down the next que heaven and earth, love to dip in rouge and sprinkle a piece of poetry, it is difficult to find the sound, the thin pen leans on the rhyme of the flat feet thousands of love silks, in the cycle of the four seasons, smoke and rain in Jiangnan, a thought blossoms, red sleeves dye incense, drunk smile, thick thoughts. A curtain of dreams warms the poem and the distance, the true feelings are revealed, there is no complaint or regret, the heart is like glass, the love is like the tide, the shyness is reserved, and the golden age is golden.
Counting the days of the wind and snow, the joy of reunion is sublimating, so that some emotions can be held in time, let go of dreams, be an elegant woman, indulge in the other side of happiness, and the mood is suddenly cheerful. After the prosperity, the rose is still the same, whispering like a pearl, and the touch of Yanran's heartbeat is full of love and affection in a variety of styles.
If life is only like the first sight, the encounter is only a dream, the beginning of beauty, looking back is, twisting a petal of sweet fragrance in your palm, a persistence warms the heart of the secret, a shallow smile swaying between the fingers, turning the title page of memory, pure love and fiery leaping on the heart, perhaps, inadvertently, the seeds of acacia have been planted, ripples with the tender raindrops of the past, deep and shallow brewing.
The pure thoughts are offered by your pillow, and the lingering emotions that breed are hazy and ignorant, rooted in the heart field, blossoming roses, and when the flower is full, a gorgeous turn is vivid. If you remember, if a cup of summer dew is mellow and rich, and the entrance melts the loneliness, I am holding this cup of wine, standing in the red dust, looking forward to a reunion that does not disappear.