In early spring, Fenfei set off in a spring rain with its own unique freshness and humidity. Encounter a tree with flowers and a touch of greenery. In that shallow green, the mood also renders the walking soul.

Time is like water, sit quietly in the corner of time, send a pile of heartfelt words to the flower rain in April, and slowly read those old things that have long been yellowed in your heart. Looking for mottled memories in the sea of flowers in April, burying those faint sorrows and the tenderness in my heart with the petals. The reincarnation of the seasons still remembers the folds and folds hidden deep in the heart, and a heart that is graceful because of you has slowly reincarnated into an unchanging vow.

Looking back, Qingmeng whispered, and the flowers and rain were one after another. Those green and green flowers, quiet and silent. Dancing memories, the love of Fenfei passing through the years, memories, passing past, the wind and the sun, the fragrance of flowers in the garden, the birds whisper Yiyi. In those years, like a fingertip elf through the years of flowers and rain, many years later, only memories are left to continue.

In the light of the day, clip a piece of the footprints of the old days, like water slipping by in an instant, in the light of time, twist a plain heart, hold a calm indifference, no matter the wind and rain, the flowers bloom and fall, the heart of the years is still free and easy, listen to the flowers and rain, chant for a period of time, and remember the time with a plain pen. Freeze a warm time and weave it into a collection of happy years.

Twist a piece of understanding, pick up an old dream, and life is filled in silence. The ink fragrance of the years sways the wind chimes of time in memory. A dusty rain, a pile of fragrant flowers, a few steps clear, with the shadow in the years quiet. The days are simple and meticulous in the scene, considering the taste of life, and superimposing the ups and downs of life. Gently pick up the traces hidden in the falling flowers, and the sadness of the past day has been blown away in the light wind. Open the scroll of life, those hustle and bustle and silence that are safely gone, rich in the vicissitudes of the years, those gatherings and dispersions, sorrows and relatives are just the experience on the road of life.

The years are long, and all the encounters have landed in the depths of time. In a hurried life, there is no need to live the days so crowded, leave a little space, reminisce about the depth and shallowness of time, and live every day calmly. Walking quietly, feeling silently, the years are as simple as a song, decorating the tips of the eyebrows and eyes. Only after walking through it did I understand that the memories of the past are the feelings of happiness and the pains of growth.

A life as simple as clear water, calm and calm, pure and elegant, and nourishing our lives all the time. The fireworks pass through the years, the years are gentle, and the breeze blows the branches of the Buddha through April, blowing away the loneliness of the years in the ups and downs of the world. Leave a collection of touching and grace and shallow thoughts. Holding the hand of time, caressing a song of the passing year, delivering the slightest wisps of sorrow to the fragrance of April flowers, quietly taking away with the wind, rubbing the fragmentary Japanese words between the lines and placing them in the heart.

Life, because of the thoughts, is gentle and quiet; The years have been highlighted by an additional experience. Some touching affection enriches our increasingly full souls. If the years are the scenery that passes by at a gallop, why not let us make a mark with the falling petals to awaken the mood that has been sealed for a long time. After going through the bright and verdant years, we have gone through the criss-crossing prosperity, and we must also get out of hesitation and sadness.

A touch of green, a wisp of red, the time has passed, the years have been enchanting, and the days are still the same. In our seemingly simple life, we live a daily life that is not simple. Whether it is poetry and distance, or distance and poetry, to me is far away, and dreams are just the yearning for tomorrow.

Life is like an hourglass, what decreases is time, what increases is experience, and how much is lost, how much will be accumulated. The old years are not terrible, but the terrible ones are the paleness of non-persistence and memory. I hope that the years that have passed have left a lamp in my heart, so that the state of mind will always be like the morning light, with a peaceful mind and plain words, and I will properly return home every day and evening.

In the depths of time, no matter how much pain and tempering, people are still affectionately living their own lives, looking down on the busy life of the market, we are all bystanders of life, obsessed with their unhurried days, in the time of walking in the thin days, thinking of the shallowness of time, wrapped in the faint fireworks of the world, left in the future memories, but also a person's wind and water.

Time flies, and the years pass by. Everything is like the illusion of floating clouds and nothingness, only cherish the present, let the past say goodbye to the dream, no passing years, no past, no concern. The wind in April has passed, the fragrance of flowers is still the same, occasionally there are petals drifting down with the wind, the wind of the years blows through, and the thoughts of life are still there.