The lonely person will always remember everyone in his life, so I always think of you endlessly, in every starry night, counting my loneliness over and over again without crying, just crying does not mean that when a person carries too much, it is not for themselves.
The sonorous footsteps are resolute and forward, and the cycle is not slow. With the sudden change of cool solar terms every minute and second, the tired heart is no longer soaked with hard sweatdrops, and the load is difficult to bear the heaviness of life.
Sometimes I also listen to ding-dong, water mill-like sound, soft, sticky, flowing through the ear, clear and cool, and delicate and long, such a listening, Jiangnan dream-like, resistant to wear.
Love turned out to be the most fragrant coffee cup, and it was agreed in my heart to accompany you forever. Love is like a leaf, green in the neglect of man, and buds in patience.
The friend is another self: with the sunny person, the heart will not be dark; with the happy person, the corners of the mouth will always smile; with the enterprising person, the action will not fall behind.
In March, kapok blooms season. Branch after branch, cluster after cluster, some blooming, some with buds to be released, took my eyes and moistened my heart. The long-lost feeling, the vague memory became clearer and clearer. A friend asked me, can kapok really be eaten? I smiled and replied, really, it can be eaten, and it tastes good.
Will those loves carved behind the chair be like flowers on cement, blossoming into a windless, lonely forest?