The "nymphomaniac" girlfriend "showed" the roses in her garden in the circle of friends again.
I can't help but think of this time last year, riding a motorcycle home from work, due to temporary road construction, I took a detour through a community, and the iron fence dozens of meters long was full of roses.
Recited the Tang poem "The crystal curtain moves in the breeze, and the shelves are full of roses and a courtyard of incense" with Xiaobao, and he fell in love with roses. The roses that bloomed all over the courtyard, the green branches hung down from the fence, dense and turned, without the beginning, the delicate flowers, clusters, graceful among the green branches, charming but not vulgar.
Every time I see a rose, I always feel a different kind of feeling in my heart. Through the gap between flowers and leaves, it seems that I can see my former self, and see the girl full of youthful smiles, wearing a light pink skirt, walking gently from the campus path.
The flower language of the rose is love and longing.
Love is a matter of course for those who are destined, and for those who are not, it is destined to pass by. Just like the mermaid princess in a fairy tale, for the most beautiful love in her heart, she did not hesitate to hand over her beautiful voice to the witch, did not hesitate to drink the unpalatable poison, endured the pain of walking on the tip of the knife at every step, and did not hesitate to turn herself into foam...... However, love is still just her solo dance.
I don't know how the pain after the annihilation of the flower is unforgettable, but I have to admit that since ancient times, love has been a certainty.
It's just that you have to be affectionate, why do you need to say to people, you can turn around, you can leave. You can stand yourself as a flowering tree, under the blazing sun, turn thousands of acacia into flowers, open reservedly, fall gracefully, even if it falls into mud and dust, you must leave the fragrance as before.
After work today, I took a special detour to see this full shelf of roses. The wind of late spring was tight, blowing slowly, and the heavy branches of roses swayed gently in the wind. The branches escaping from the side of the life, like a rattle in the hands of a child, are connected with a long line of memory, gently swirling, "dong dong dong", "dong dong dong" knocking out the past events.
Many thoughts spread in the wind of late spring, echoing in the wind, and falling among the petals of the rose.
思也悄悄,念也悄悄!