In my eyebrows, I hold the sorrow of the prosperity;
2020年4月15日 | by 科姆龙
In my eyes, I reveal the elegant and old sigh; In my dream, I can’t write the loneliness of the cold stars. Spring comes from your gentle eyes. With the smell of dewdrops, when flowers bloom, the cool breeze and clouds are rolling with the remaining warmth of winter, soft, tender and green, the casual arrival.
The white clouds blooming together and the cool breeze dancing are waiting for the warm sun to live in your heart. Warm, inadvertently came, the silk bamboo in the dream suddenly your face. The flowers covered by time will also reappear after the sky blue, and the endless pain and Sunset soothe people’s hearts. I began to miss the old age which was held by the years, and the ups and downs of flowers were a period of time, a year of memory.
The breeze is moist, reviewing the old dream. After experiencing the past and tasting the wind of yesterday, I now know that anywhere in the world can grow, even grow, and any place is the destination. Because I have seen thousands of purple flowers, my eyes turn gray. Because I have experienced many vicissitudes, I know that the years are quiet and good.
In the noisy world, who doesn’t know that time is wasted and who won’t be disturbed by illness. But, rest assured, everything will be fine. Then, keep the rest of the fleeting time and watch a period of time calm and peaceful. Watching the flowers bloom leisurely, waiting for the flowers to fall, knowing the warmth and coldness, everything will not let the floating clouds cover the sunshine.
We can’t always hide in the depths of seasons and dreams, listening to flowers and nights singing all kinds of nightmares. Looking back on the other bank, I indulged myself in finding that the scenery on the other bank was long and the spring always came in the casual years. The Four Seasons have their own warmth, and the old age is just a finger of quicksand. At night, stars, April, spring water, along the road, flowers fall.
The south wind passes through, and the paper plane across the sky is gentle and straight to the softness of the heart.
Wearing stars and moon, there will always be cool breeze and bright moon on the road to return home at night without light in the future.
I am on the other side of the river, Shou Wang back, waiting for the warmth of the future.
Don’t worry about hopeless results.
Because warmth always comes by accident……