<h1>Author: Zi Mo</h1>
I have carefully read the scenery, I have also claimed the fragrance of flowers, and I have written the greenest sentence on the most plain note, although I can't remember what was written, but it must have been arranged according to the rhythm of the beautiful paving.
No one is resistant to the temptation of beauty, willing to accept, willing to be captured and spontaneously fallen, deep into it and unable to extricate himself.
Time is gentle, the flowers are soft, the clouds and birds are unusually lively, the wind blows the window, the window is half open, the leaves are dangling in silence, and the butterflies are hiding in the buds of flowers.
I walked gently, and who knows if I'm leaving or coming back? Quietly tell the passing time, my existence, my expectations. There is no need for a silver bowl to hold snow, only that reality is stable.
If you're looking for an exit, I think, it's probably autumn.
Sitting on the grass, the wind falling around, green surrounding, occasionally smoke lan over the chat, quietly I graze the clouds with my heart, I use my pure heart to reminisce with every falling flower.
The sunlight that passed through the flowers slowly moved to my body, setting a shadow, and then along the emerald green vines to comfort a flower. A bird touched a leaf, swung it at my feet, picked it up, blew it, and gave Summer a high note.
The shadow is hanging there, I am thinking about my heart, don't be so worried, okay? The beautiful season, showing some sincerity, not using poetry, at least some heartbeat to be sincere enough.
Flowers bloom, gentle, transparent world seems to be able to illuminate people's hearts, affectionately live up to, place their souls between the grass and trees, I think it is the most appropriate. The beauty of life is also between this red and green, waiting for you to feel.
The May day was suddenly hot, not warm but warm, and it was difficult for me to be quiet, unless I was given a rain, some coolness and silence, as if it were the joy of glass time.
Perhaps, the evening wind is cool, will blow through every heart that passes through the hustle and bustle of the day, send a few wisps of incense, let people wake up; perhaps, the heart of the roadside grass and trees is also cool, not impetuous, quiet growth, life can flourish.
Mature world, because we know how beautiful the world is, so we love deeply, afraid of their own failure, some withering and pretending not to see, waiting for the next year to recover, only to say that you are really good.
Heartbeat is beauty, affection is splendid embroidery. Suddenly I remembered the poem of the poet "Gao Biao": the green trees are thick and long in summer, the reflection of the terrace into the pond, the crystal curtain moves in the breeze, and the roses are full of incense.
I didn't want to look at the rose in the corner, for fear that it was old. Is this redemption or gratitude, in short, the mind is pure, afraid of sadness, afraid of nostalgia, just like the departure of April, I still hide it in my dreams.
Of course, there are no beautiful things in the world that are not worthy of affection, including the traces of the years, the colorful crossing of the summer, where it falls I don't know, but I think some of the beauty is lighter than the dream, and the wind can't be found as soon as it blows.
Therefore, affection is necessary, otherwise the wind and clouds blow away, where to find the time you have, where to find the beauty of summer. Live up to the real like, sit in the grass and flowers, and the grass and trees are in the same heart, the same joy.
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