Autumn, endowed with charming colors and mysterious atmosphere by some ancient poems, is like a beautiful fairy tale telling the purest part of the world. Along the lines of the poem, I seem to have returned to the autumn of that year. With the longing of the epidemic night, I caress the past that has already passed away, maintaining the beauty that is drifting with the wind. The deeply hidden emotions that have been lost for a long time will blend into the warmth of Christmas fireworks in the brightly lit night court, and cannot help but burst out of my chest, turning into a melodious and fresh song
Once upon a gloomy evening, I walked alone in the garden, obediently drizzling my face. On the western mountain, there was only a hint of crimson evening, pouring out the faint afterglow of the departed sunset. The distant roof is still spreading the gentle radiance of sunlight, adding a more dynamic color to the poetic dusk.
I stopped as I crawled over the leaves of the Sa leaf, and suddenly, a row of striking chalk words came into my eyes: Close the window, I can refuse the wind, as if there was really a gentle breeze playing with my sensitive heartstrings. I doubted for a long time, what kind of scene should it be, and in what mood did this poem come into being? I picked up half a year's worth of chalk on the ground and wrote at the bottom of the poem: "Hold on, I can refuse the rain." The heat I created by writing this poem in search of inspiration still lingers in my heart to this day.
On a wet and ethereal morning on Baby Day, a group of flowers were still dreaming their clear dreams. Under the embrace of the seemingly clean air, I plucked open that leaf. It's still the wall, still crawling with Qingsa. And under my lines, it simply reads: "But how can I refuse melancholy?" My heart trembles, although I am looking forward to it, I never thought that there would really be another sensitive soul continuing to write about my emotions.
Is life happy? Is life lost? We can easily refuse the wind and rain, but it is always difficult to resist the invasion of melancholy. It is invisible and impenetrable. Depression is often accompanied by disappointment and setbacks. In the life of calm and calm waves, we still need to love every ordinary day that passes before us, and all kinds of disappointments are inevitable. In this country, we can only find a way to break through in the midst of melancholy, to expel the Yin above the heart, Just as we must strive to face and tolerate the storms of life.
I leaned down and picked up some self colored stones. Upon closer inspection, there was no trace of dirt or blemishes on these stones. I tightly connected them as if grasping the purity and perseverance of life. So, I wrote on the training: "Uber accompanies growth, and it cannot or does not need to be rejected.
Now is the golden autumn of all things, and I am grateful to those souls who resonate with me. Although we have never met before, our country resonated with the same emotions and resonated with each other in that poetic and poisonous fairy tale autumn.
Drops of soft water walk on the winter eaves like strings of ice, like the scales of a house exposed to the sunlight. This crystal clear analysis conveys the profound feeling of winter and adds a strong atmosphere to it.
In a blink of an eye, autumn is gradually deepening. Flowing fireflies flutter the lamp, falling leaves are flying, autumn is singing the clear songs of the season. The fragrant night dew drips from the smiling flower face into the palm of the hand, and a wisp of fragrant fragrance flows through the veins of the night.
Life is like the growth of a flower. As we grow, we should keep moving forward, accelerate our steps, and catch the best time for flowering.