Pick up the fragrance of a flower, intoxicated in the long river of time, watch the withering of a flower, and listen to the sound of a person leaving.
Time gradually fades away, the wind is still singing an elegy, a flower falls, falling on the windowsill of memory, dreamlike memories withering among the falling flowers, and a soft heart will also lose its direction in the wind.
is still in front of the falling flowers, looking at a flying flower as your distant figure, who is still at the intersection of time, waiting for time to turn red cherries and green banana , brushing away the sadness of green fat and thin.
How lonely is the flowers falling, what kind of melancholy will make the butterfly affection turn into mud, whether the old crabapple is still the same, who picked a red bean of lovesickness for whom, and who fell in love with him for whom.
The direction of the wind, the flowers fell, but time was still unyielding. The memories of who was hiding in the rainy alley were left, and the peach blossoms fell, and the branches of lilac are entangled. Who can never go back to the past? How can the white horse of missing be chased back?
The rain has not stopped, the flowers have fallen, who has turned the rain into sadness in the rain, who has waited in front of the falling flowers to loneliness in front of the falling flowers, who has fallen into heartbreak in the rain, who has blurred his eyes in the falling rain and flying among the flowers.
