Snow kiss

Near dusk, a little snow was blowing and spilling. The quiet house raised the smoke from the kitchen, and the folds on the ridge of the old house were filled with thin snow. The setting sun is looming, and my heart is full of snow dancing and smiling. That’s what you gave me, okay? There is snow flying in the wilderness, and trees and grass as well as the sleepless leaves also seem a little cute. The snow was rustling, the grass was a little excited and shook, more and more tightly holding the leaves in her arms let the snow stroke her face. There is a rabbit at the foot of the tree, stretching out his head at the entrance of the cave. The tree is majestic and silent, tingling the mystery of fairy tales and the beauty of Penglai Pavilion. Miss you all the time you are in the sky, love you all the time you are in front of me…… Sketch a little snow carved the rhyme of poetry, the wind lips in October are shaking! The flat slab oil road is wide, with the wind drawing, and the road surface is dancing and rolling up with the wind, as if the phoenix tail is like a flower. My feet knocked on the road, and I couldn’t hear the squeaking sound. I was afraid that the snow couldn’t bear to disturb a piece of poetry and hurt my heart! There was warm cold kissing my cheek in the air, snow falling on my forehead, snow touching my lonely shoulder, and snow hanging over my long curly hair. My ears are a little burnt, maybe I miss you so much that I whispered in my ear!? The poplars on both sides of the road become more and more straight and handsome. There was shallow snow hanging on the shoulder, frozen buds hanging quietly in the snow, tangled spring light placed helplessly on the branches of October, which made the eternal yearning of spring come true. The cold in winter and the shore of time have no choice but to stay in this life where the loss outweighs the gain. A piece of residual leaves around the root is a cruel sentimental attachment. A fragrance of soil is the deep love from the sky. The wilderness was so quiet that we could only hear the sound of rustling snow. There were no birds flying and no children playing. I am like a lonely soul falling in the tacit understanding of snow day. Westerly moderate snow triumphantly Sasa, such as fog such as yarn such as magic dream ru su ru qi. Snow is kissing my forehead, pecking my eyes, licking my lips, patting my shoulders, dragging my skirt, kicking my shoes, I enjoyed the pet of snow to my heart’s content. That is the farthest bosom you have given me recently in this life, the warm hug you have given me, and the safety you have sent to me from afar on the other bank, A warmth melted into my arms in the dream bed of October, making me warm. I always like to walk in the snow like this. It was the literary and weak Cher who led me to a feast of soul. It was the ethereal Cher who called me to be a bridesmaid in the snow. Embrace a clear and mellow, a beautiful, a spoony, a fantasy, a shallow place? I always like the quiet, beautiful and slightly sad atmosphere, seize the cold wind of the season, and ask whether the floating Snow Fairy invited me to do a silent prayer in Notre Dame de Paris? Can there be snow and warmer dance this winter? Hold down the shadow of the sunset, raise your eyes to extend the time, and make the beauty of the season sketch into an eternal painting at this dusk, hanging in the corridor of the years. There is no piano wind as the string, no snow dance rhyme, and the burning of the soul is painful in the west wind. The busyness and busyness of the world are like the gurgling snow at this time, rolling up with the wind and leaving. A quiet and poetic warmth, a bit of time on the asphalt pavement quiet into dusk. Boil a cup of snow to drink, taste the astringent nectar and jade liquid, and pull it cool. Twist the cotton of years into a rope, which is thick or thin, long or short, and place it in a glass bottle filled with diesel oil to soak it into a wink and light it. The shining light lit up my eyes, and the past was like fantasy lingering in my heart. Is the smell of light smoke sweet or painful? Obsessed with the smoke of time, eager for a sunny sky. There was sunshine, the sky was as blue as washing, and the birds were singing to protect the flowers. There were cattle and sheep wandering leisurely on the grassland. The sound of cattle moo startled the bird’s afternoon dream in the tree. On the grassland, there was a handsome young man running like a horse with a whip. The beautiful girl was singing crazily. Dad raised the melodious sound of the flute to be gentle and gentle. Mom boiled milk tea, in the yurt, the singing of my mother was loud one after another! Such a natural and such a situation makes me imagine that I can read poems by Yang Meng! Cleaning in the creases of years, the yellowish gel, a few lines of scattered words, pinch a warm soil, the seeds of the soul sprout without roots. As time flies, the beauty is called lightly, and the warm and lengthy memory is exiled with the wind in the unbearable weather. My slender figure forms the process of time, and my smart eyes flash a passion of not fading to Chi Cheng! The eyelashes have also bounced down a few lines of bitter and sour tears, beautiful lines of poetry! Fold the moon halo and lean on the years. I still like the light snow so much. Standing in the snow, holding a handful of snow elves, to warm a pure, let the snow cold kiss me…… Like (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) the snow in spring

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