Standing in the depths of winter, staring at the blooming smiles in the sky, and the mood is then robbed by the childlike heart.
Xiang Zhehongtao
In the old alley where the willow tree was peeling off its hair, I met myself again.
At this time, I used my eyes to describe a set of emotions, which is the montage of the worry-free year. In the cold wind, one group after another was opened in front of my eyes. To this day, I always want to go back to the years when I was running and playing without feeling tired.
The wind here is very cold, but I am unwilling to leave in the alley with a serpentine shape. The long-cherished wish at that time may come true, but I lost the worry-free and happy time completely. This may be life.
I stared silently, the old willow that had accompanied me for many years slowly shaking my body. What did she take away?
A fallen leaf passed through her branches and brought me to a more distant time and space.
Adults always feel that happiness is dry, without the dazzling colors. It is often self-decorated to confuse yourself or others. Only in the years when you have deepest dreams, happiness will be the most real in your soul, rising one after another and continuously emerging.
Looking at her monotonous and lonely figure, a hint of melancholy color surged in her heart. There are many unknowns in life, only childhood memories will not be diluted and disappeared.
The past follows the wind, just like this old willow and a somewhat decaying alley, I have bloomed with me through the cycle of reincarnation for many seasons, and I have passed by the passing years.
Carefully search for childhood language, hold it in the palm of your hand, and the heart that is full of vicissitudes will open up.
Standing in the depths of winter, a few white flowers floated down the gray sky stingyly. It was the purest smile of the year of Tiao Nian, and it also made my poems bloom fragrant from now on.
Life is slow, as long as you can maintain a childish heart, that clear spring water will always ripple in your heart.
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