The autumn rain rises and falls, and thoughts creep in like rain in the quiet night. The rain outside the window is falling in the quiet night, and a familiar voice crept through the heart, is it autumn rain? Is it rain? It must be the most beautiful home of longing in the heart, just like the bits and pieces of autumn rain that have been infiltrated, overnight, there is no way to talk about it or how much or not to continue to nourish trivial thoughts!
The autumn rain is still falling, and at night, although people feel some coolness, they feel some chills. I stood silently in front of the window, looking at the moment when the autumn rain fell asleep, and a trace of warmth surged in my heart, which made me understand a lot, many, many, many. Many years later, when the thoughts in those hearts gradually become clear in the moonlight, when those feelings gradually blur in the wind of the years, when those feelings gradually become farther and farther away with your back in the heart, when those stories gradually become memories in the heart, of course, there is a feeling of longing that is eternal, just as it has grown and sprouted in the heart over the years, although there are still flowers. There is a kind of longing that falls quietly like a winter rain, and the feelings that fall will slowly spread with the blood, like snowflakes fluttering lightly with the wind, but every wisp of early morning in those winters will bring you to sleep.
"Look for plums in the snow, snow in the dark." Thinking of you is like late autumn.