In the years of mountains and rivers, there are fewer and fewer people who care about turning mountains and rivers to turn water. For the rest of my life, I still have concerns. Ive been guarding some things with my heart. Ive brought a little vicissitudes and old convergence along the way, and Ive been holding warm in my heart.
On a day when the spring wind blows, from the other side of that time, a low call suddenly comes, which can melt all the frost and snow that you miss. Thats your message. Its OK.
Life, is a bright and dazzling morning light, tossing snow, reincarnation of the four seasons, rising and falling sleeplessly; every night, the worlds plants and things are waiting for the arrival of smear dye vitality and bright time.
A lot of times, we are in endless worry medium an echo, feel time is long and suffering doubly. This wait may be many years. Even if its just a look back, a pair of footprints, a figure that comes and goes, even if it doesnt leave a word, its the reason to settle down.
How many days, the heart river separated by wind and rain, looking at the sunrise as a sunset, how many times looking back, the frost and snow of my mind lowered my mood, and finally waited for the silk thread message coming from the wind. Hear a familiar greeting, fine warm, heart, still so different.
Times eyebrows and lashes light roll, suddenly miss, once that was taken away by the dust wind in autumn. That night, the heavy rain hurt the flowers in full bloom. The soul of the flowers is down, and the heart that cant be picked up is scarlet. Two people hand-in-hand efforts to run, but eventually escaped a fate of dispersion.
Such a scene, again and again appear in the dream of fleeting years, the rain is too big, the rain washed the picture of recalling, joy and sorrow, into a river running with tears ...
The poems written in the wind are the whispers of those who are warm and fragrant. Years of gentle, hidden in the dream of fireworks, who can not forget the past. Time is old, snow and rain, everything is a secret, love and pity, and are so reasonable.
A dust Road, through the gathering and scattering of wind and rain, through the dense thorns, the hand of time will smooth those wrinkles. And each of us will get better and better.
After a cycle of blooming and withering, omitting the colorful scenery along the way, the true meaning of life, will emerge peacefully and present a complete calm. Filtering out the cold and clear sorrow of the fleeting years, the mountains and rivers will return to silence.
The wind and rain of the alley, this many years of frequent look back, only to wait for a reunion in the sentence: dont be hurt! From then on, let go, from now on, those who never forget, are drawn outside the unknown landscape.
Yesterdays green was green, and those days of chaos ended in silence. In the vigorous sophistication, when JUANJUAN looks back, all the feelings are in full bloom, and the thoughts are also enchanting. Step, light, see through all the way. Passing through the light and shadow of the flower covered branches, still attached, with a pure and beautiful initial makeup.
The mountains and rivers forget the river, and a lot of dreams are scattered. Can you let go of the hand holding the past, hold a recent warmth lightly, and wait for a persons deep feelings.
Life is like this, do not ask for nothing, only think of their own time safe and clear. Between Fanghua and twilight, thousands of feelings have never failed, which is the most gratifying consolation!
Spring wind wrinkled the shore, if one day and the long lost old man suddenly meet again, a little nod, gently said: mountains and rivers, never mind!
Hua Xiyan, editor of literature website, works are scattered in paper media journals such as writers daily, selected writers Journal, Qilu literature, etc. He published a collection of songs of time and ink in Jiangnan, etc. WeChat official account: rain and dew micro publication (ID:luer2200)