What kind of weather is it? The misty rain curled up in the gray clouds. Memories were repeatedly pulled by the wind on the old eaves, and the falling flowers danced gently in the arms of the wind.
The wind is singing a sad song. Missing someone's long eyelashes slid across my long eyelashes and gently fell into my heart, awakening a sleeping past, and who was the gentleness of his fingertips. Even if he couldn't wake up from the past, the lonely wind chime would remind me that memories have become the passing years of falling flowers.
What happened to pass, just like this, what else can be left? Is there a butterfly that misses you all the time lingering in the falling petals, one is recalling in the wind, and the other is laughing and crying in the memories.
How many thoughts are hidden under the wings of the butterfly? Will the falling petals wither and fade away like the past? Time passes by, and I only have thoughts left, but I sway like a lonely sail in my memories.
How long will it take and where should we go? The bustling lonely incompatible with the rain, this loneliness is like curled up in mist and rain, with nowhere to escape, the troubles never stop,
lilac is entangled in the rain, and the wind blows how many rain into crystal clear, and on the blurred glass, how many tears of lovesickness slide.
