Cold winter

Leaning against the warm sun of the fleeting years, choose a crossing where the wind rises, let the long hair rise with the wind, and touch the words in the bottom of my heart with a little bit, what is the vicissitudes of wind and frost on the temples? The book is a piece of soft heart language, dipped in a thick memory, which stretches freely with the heart language, and is full of warmth in the cold winter. The boundless wind and dust filled the cold season. In the corner of the dream, I picked up the memory of the past years gently, melted my thoughts, warmed my smile, and poured many silent thoughts into the deep and shallow clear. There were fallen flowers and Eaglewood flowing in the dream. Every piece and every petal is the most unforgettable story. Every moment and every second is the most wonderful poem, on the screen wall of time, quietly carve it into a permanent mind. I have never forgotten the long corridor dyed with ink, the paper which is carefully broken and paved all the way into words, the long wind with willows, the red leaves falling down, the eyebrows frowned, the words opened for reading, yesterday and today, happy and sad, no harm and elegant, the most beautiful watch in the flower shadow still keeps the original gentleness. The memory that warms my heart is always dim the wounds in the past years, leaving only the most charming aftertaste, spreading in the deepest silence at midnight. The dark night falls into the deep and long; The long thoughts break out the clear glow of the stars and the moon. This peaceful silence, carrying the warm memory as early as the sun, surged in the eyebrows, melted in the heart, let the time flow, and can bloom the most beautiful Qionghua at the end of the mountain and the water. A wisp of wind, touching my memory, who is still wandering in the long corridor of Willow filled with smoke and rain? Who is watching in the waiting of sunset? Who is obsessed in the long wind? At that time, people didn’t understand the winter wind, but the snow was scattered. Chanting the rhyme of time, researching a clear and shallow ink mark, the agility between fingers gently dances out the joy of the bottom of my heart; Holding a thick poem, to read the quietness of words, the light of lips and teeth murmured a graceful clear dream, the faint ink fragrance permeated the winter wind, which covered thousands of flowers and trees, and the 24th Bridge reflected the sorrow of Autumn thoughts. Singing alone under the moon is the splendor of the sea; A song before the flowers is the fragrance of the bloom at that time. Sitting quietly in the charm like water, watching the prosperity on the other side, the original love was like a flower blooming into a unique poem. In my heart and in my dream, it was enchanting and warm. Most of the time, I expect myself to be just a flower, blooming in the midsummer and falling in this cold winter, making my thin body hide in the red mud, into the heart of the Earth, and the feeling of eternal life accompanying the happiness. Although winter is cold, but there are thoughts, time will never lose color, heart is warm, everything is warm. Pick a piece of words between flowers, as butterfly New Fu language, wait for the warm sun, ten miles long pavilion, plain heart into the note, will know every swim into a picture scroll, every dusk, snuggle into poetry, yingyan won’t come. I will sing by myself. In the scenery along the road, I will pick up a few pieces of Qing huan. I will use my clear water to clean my heart. I hope that time will be quiet and you will be safe. The weather and the human Day urge each other. The winter solstice is sunny and the spring comes again. Time flies, and you can’t turn the rudder of dreams. In the spring of the next year, there will be warmth of flowers. The heart is the constant prosperity, which is summer, cold winter, wind and shadow passing by, and beauty. I am willing to use this clumsy thin pen to wipe the residual Frost on my temples, touching the fallen flowers between fingers, warming the memories in dreams, wind, Frost, rain and snow, I only want to smile slightly. With dreams and thoughts, my heart is warm and secure. Like (prose editor: Ke Er) the snow in spring

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