The early morning wind, sometimes slow and sometimes urgent, like a pair of invisible hands, dragged me back from my dreamland, gently rubbed my sleepy eyes, and stepped into reality with the dream. On Hongchen Mo, the people I meet, come and go, some people approach, some people leave, only your smile makes me so nostalgic, if time is not old, we will not part.

It is said that there is no feast in the world that will not be dispersed, and I think that even if the table is scattered, the laughter and laughter that can remain in the memory will still be cherished in the heart, warming every day and night in life, even if it is lonely, there will be occasional bursts of warmth. The years are long, the red dust is entwined, and the people and stories I meet are written into a moment of desolation, many times, I can't choose the beginning, and I can't predict the ending, I can only keep the original heart, wandering in the world.

On the world, the flowers bloom and the flowers are flying, the leaves are dancing and the leaves are falling, the road of life is long, I still haven't learned to hide all the things in my heart, through a curtain of dreams, I want to capture the shadow that lingers in my mind, and the place where the feelings are flooded is still the original hometown in the dream. Turning the corner of the city and meeting your gentle eyes, I always believe that not all parting sorrows will be full of sadness.

If the heart does not move, the wind can help, if I do not hurt, the years will be fine!

When all the memories converge into a rushing Yangtze River, and I am the waves that are tossed up and falling by the wind, chasing the direction of the wind tirelessly. Perhaps, life is an exile, and I don't know which one comes first, tomorrow or the accident; I don't know if we can meet again at the next station...... I just want to make myself happy and bright.

Life is like tea, only by savoring it, can we know the taste, many people and things, only experienced, felt, only to know the preciousness of that true love, the vast sea of people, it is indeed difficult to find. Perhaps, I am the so-called winner in life, who has been watching unremittingly for many years, and finally kept the clouds open and saw the moon, and harvested full of happiness and joy.

Life is too short, so why not live every day of your life happily. In the boundless time, choose an open place, build a simple house, plant flowers and grass outside the door, write poems in the house, and spend time with you, so that ordinary life becomes as colorful as a flower, and blooms with the most beautiful attitude. No matter how long time passes, you are still the first time I saw you, walking through the four seasons, watching the sun rise and watching the moon set in the sky.

Far from the ends of the world, the thoughts are still the same, over thousands of mountains and rivers, after wind, frost, snow and rain, do not forget the original intention, you have to always. When the prosperity is gone, I am still so persistent, and when I encounter certain things in reality and virtuality, I will occasionally laugh and scold, cry and be sad.

No matter how things change, no matter how time passes, a feeling will never change.

The days, in the long river of years, pass without shock, if the time is not old, we will not disperse. I would like to be your shadow walking in the red dust, accompanying you through the stormy journey of life. Time is like sand, slipping quietly from my fingertips, I can't keep time, I can't keep the past, I can only salvage some residual fragments in the long river of years, and treasure them in the nearest place of centrifugation.

Wandering in the place of the first encounter, the past scenes come to mind, today's stay together, it is indeed hard-won, however, the short life, has already reached the age of not being able to lose, each other should cherish each other, cherish this difficult fate, cherish every day together. The sky is high and the clouds are light, and the season of dyeing the forests is also the season of harvest, but for me, it is a time of mixed joy and sorrow.

Always in the afternoon or evening, lazily in the flying time, write a mood text, depicting a landscape in my heart, small and fragmented, but it is my real heart. If you can see or read, you will understand that those thoughts and thoughts that have been superimposed by the passing years are filled with the most brilliant fireworks in the castle that I built with my own hands.

If time is not old, we will not disperse, okay?