Spent listening to the sound
The dead of night, everything seemed to sleep together except noise, heart suddenly strangely silent. Delicate fragrance, shallow thoughts.
I will be planted in different seasons of different flowers, unconsciously, with spring, the yard is flourishing. Screamed the name, the name is not on call. Every flower has its own story, carrying a long TV drama of the past reflected in its mellow; every flower will evoke the slightest emotion of my heart. In that wind and rain, cold days of sun and night, it has been sculpted stand as it had never left the spot by its decoration.
I always think flowers are spiritual spirit, Johnson ugg boots bailey button
is a godsend to the earth material, the dough does not profit a grip, but the rustling disdain the dust. Open your heart, and wandering around flowers, taste the products the smell of flowers, listen, the voice of flowers.
First, the Gardenia grief
In the days of clear water, tainted or happy or sad with the elements, let us never forget.
The family goes Chunchun petals always feel the pulse of the sound, the years have had eyes and thoughts of love Ming thinking in the way of life in the long, lingering a long time.
On a stray hanging on Grateloupia
Birds fly away
Fallen flowers scattered over the floor too
Why is such a glimpse of life
I will not accept, can not get, such as gardenia, as she never left us. Life is so fragile? Dim, between the opposite shore, her petite hand to me, with sadness in the eyes of hope I panic. I walked close to her step, but brought in a blank, her, and she was gone, all the scenery is gone. All of the illusion it was my thoughts too deep for her sustenance in a dream place to vent it.
Looking back how many times are just gone. When the wheels of time keep moving forward, but the memory has been staying at the origin, everything seems very weak. Leave some blank slightly Memorial.