In life, there are always some colorful and quiet, swaying on the branches of time; in the years, there are always some uninvited encounters, which have nothing to do with the wind and moon, but are gentle and lingering years.

In life, there are always some colorful and quiet, swaying on the branches of time; in the years, there are always some uninvited encounters, which have nothing to do with the wind and moon, but are gentle and lingering years.

Several wind and rain, several spring and autumn, the vicissitudes of wind chimes have long shaking in the wilderness of life, and the autumn bagpipe has already sung in the journey of life. Many stories have not been recorded, and they have long been hidden in the water shore of time; many experiences have not been thought about, and they have already been floating in the dust of time.

Donkey relationship is like a dream, dream is like a flower. Sometimes flowers bloom, fate comes with fate. The most beautiful cause and effect must come in a quiet place only when it is right. Two souls that are close to each other finally met, like white horses entering reeds, unable to tell each other; like stars dotted in the dark night, lit up the entire night; just like white clothes reflecting snow, light and shadow blending.

Autumn rain moistens the heart, and also knocks down the petals, turning into spring mud, protecting spring flowers in the coming year. This is true in all seasons of life, who can stop the natural arrangement? After experiencing joys and sorrows, this is ordinary and also practice. All life will mature only if it is experienced.

Ask Qingfeng, who is listening, how many chrysanthemums bloom on the road? When asked about the return geese, who is counting carefully, how many layers of leaves fell in my dream last night? This shallow wind, shallow clouds, shallow thoughts, shallow days, shallow you, me and him, everything is shallow and leisurely.

Life is a life, flowers bloom for a season, and all things in the world have their own reincarnation and destination.

Even though time is far apart, there is always a romance that has been stranded inadvertently in a corner of my heart, and on a certain night, it rises into all kinds of longings. Missing is an unknown habit, a sad and cold language. The bone-eroded lovesickness condenses too much pain, probably just for you to learn to be calm.

Walk with a clear and clear heart, hold a cup of wine with time, and pay homage to the late autumn, talk about the years, and write a poem about late autumn, love life, and send love for the life of late autumn, and walk with the soul. I can’t help but sing a long song: The scenery is beautiful here!