A tears of lovesickness bloom in the night, telling lightly in the dream, folding the rhyme of the lyrics in the ancient style , poetry can know the scenery outside the window, but not the mood inside the window. I like clean sketches. Love can be a soft mark in my heart, and longing can also sing the wind in a poetic way.
Western Wind Rolling Blind, I recalled the persistent waiting in the most vicissitudes of life, used to you lower your eyebrows and smile, and used to the agility of falling leaves floating on your fingertips. Get used to the lingering deep in my memory. Try to fight the waiting for the whole life into a beautiful line of poetry.
gently snuggle, hugging each other coldly, the gradient temperature tangles together, like walking in the rain without an umbrella, just to listen to the rhythm of the steps and the rain, and just to comfort the throbbing of the water splashed on the steps.
thoughts in my heart, touching a hint of breeze. I put my vague thoughts in that autumn. Now I think of the golden feeling rendered by the autumn colors still spread in my heart. Missing is not the ancient style of the last writing, but the beautiful words and sentences are written. A persistent person needs to bind it into a book to regain the prosperity of your poems and fireworks in your dreams.
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