Spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River, summer flowers are splendid, autumn wind and moon shadows, snowy winter nights, listen to a song of spring river flowers and moonlit nights. In the amber of memory, the days are colorful, and the past is fading, without looking at it, let the lost soul of the time wander with the whistling wind.

Time is like a great writer who writes the perfect ending for everyone. And what I want to do is to walk in the years, live in cherishing, and live every day for the rest of my life.

I like to live a leisurely and comfortable day, the waves are not alarmed, the small bridge is flowing water, the clouds and the sky are outside, and I am willing to live every day into a romantic poem, graceful and exquisite. Walking in the years, we can learn many things, but also gracefully put down many things, no matter how time passes, how the world changes, experienced the world of life polishing, time tempered, like to walk step by step in the time, stitch and thread to live their own life.

The river flows, and the time travels; Suddenly woke up, so there are a lot of old ones, and something else has gone with the wind. Passing through the years, looking back on the previous years, dreams are like flying flowers.

Take a handful of memories, add a period of sadness, the passing years of fingertips flying, such as scattered time, the joy of the past, a few past drifts, inadvertently buried in the ink pool and passed away into a grave, like the smoke of the passing years.

Walking through the corridor, boring, only to read the words, the clouds and the past, together with the world. Looking at the flowing water to the east, the twilight sun is falling in the west, and the tears are falling from the plain pen.

Spring and Autumn have experienced the vicissitudes of wind and rain several times, the days have smoothed the edges and corners of life, and the life that has faded away the halo interprets helplessness and persistence.

Guarding his own plain rhyme, he is safe and secure, and in the half acre of flower field in his heart, he plants chrysanthemums and repairs fences. Let every corner have a soul to cling to. Sitting quietly in a corner of time, you can lean against the mountain, snuggle up to the water, and slowly flip through your favorite books until the book is wordless, the tea is tasteless, and the story is heartbroken...... The years have long been vicissitudes, and the silent solo dance is sad.

Cut a wisp of blue to weave dreams in the morning smoke, decorated with a few petals of clouds of Ning Xin and waves, embroidered on the blue background of the white flower of the dream handkerchief, no wind and no moon, no complaint and no worries. The noisy days were gently ironed by the poems of a que.

The flowers and branches and the remnants of the grass are yellowing, the snow is white and waiting for the spring, the time has become the vicissitudes of life, the warm years, the clouds and rain are long, and the heart stranded in the wind and sand of the passing years has fallen back to the edge of reincarnation with the axis of the spiritual sky, counting the beating of time.

In the quiet time, I like to use the key with residual warmth, the door of memory is lightened, and I feel the brightness of a window, those sorrows and years are like a little daisy blooming in the corner of time, blooming quietly in time. I am convinced that sorrow has been shattered in the moment when the leaves fall and the flowers bloom, but the warmth is an experience, which decorates the long time and leaves a mark on life.

Looking back, it is time that interprets the present into the past, whether it is a prophetic sage or an ordinary Li people, who can measure the distance between the past and the present...... Today is a waste of yesterday, and now it is suddenly obsolete with the wind. Like smoke drifting in the dust of the years, there is no trace, and the hazy and hazy passing through the heart lake is only a few sad, a few melancholy!

Hustle and bustle life, red dust and smoke and rain, with white clouds and sleep, pillow falling flowers and sleep. Chant a song of cloud and water Zen heart, describe a frame of colorful clouds chasing the moon, look at the clouds and water, and enjoy the autumn scenery. This kind of poetic and picturesque, paradise-like tranquility is the artistic conception pursued and longed for by many literati and artists, but in the end it is just a fairy tale in the besieged city.

In the depths of loneliness, in the red dust, in the past years, look at the ethereal scenery, indifferent thoughts, shallow through the silent years, only squatting alone in the corner of time, sighing, sorrow!

Time has messed up the pace of time, and this year's flowers can no longer be fragrant. Life always has to go through many ravines and ravines, and there are always many regrets that cannot be made up for over the years. I have gone through time, I have felt life, and in the years of wind and rain, I hope that time is quiet.

Slowly walk through the four seasons, in the picture scroll of time, depict an accident, recall a period of wind and dust, listen to the wind by the railing, lean on the window to watch the rain, sigh, the years are like a dream, the end of the world is pale......

At this moment, I opened the pale words with full affection, pulled a piece of colorful haze, embroidered a brocade of prosperity and verdant, and let the memory pass through the windows of the years, far away from the world.