Falling Flowers

　　In winter, everything withers, the north wind is sluggish, and the snowy road is alone. Sparse people, the whole over are wrapped in clothes like a dumpling, the face can not see the face, hands can not see the hands, some children are like a big fat cotton ball, very cute. People walk up a clatter, thick white snow, leaving a string of footprints, different sizes, shades of different, looking from afar as if the clothes are strange pictures.

　　Although the winter in the north is so bleak, but every piece of scenery touched my heart, let me recall the warm days, let my heart boil up. As I walked, I thought of the beautiful south, the beautiful her. It has been almost two years, I think, I did not go to the south. I am a Northerner, used to eating barley noodles, where to get used to the delicate millet, northerners, long long strips of noodles, put into boiling water, shuttle, lay a spoonful of soy sauce is a delicious meal, the south is different, millet porridge, fragrant pot rice, a variety of dishes, endless, the most sophisticated is the Cantonese cuisine, out of the name of exquisite. The pastries are even more lingering, one is a work of art. Perhaps we all know that the boat point, are exquisite plants and animals to create the shape.

　　My thoughts, my dreams, my memories, my youth, and more than a decade are left in that. I met her there, that year autumn is getting, some maroon leaves spread all over the campus, shiny tarmac, sparse shadows, from time to time only a few student girls in school uniforms walk by. I came to the south alone, tired of learning to let me, with a contemptuous gaze sweep that school. The front door of the school is the kind of marble made, the wall is not very high, but is indeed very old, with a kind of yellowish, The two sides of the wall are still hanging big red balls, and I do not know when they were hung up, the red has faded, leaving a light white, in the side of a little is a plaque, which reads peach and plum full of the world, the four seas are majestic. I thought to myself that this is not a siege, heart discouraged, the decadent pace just steps, to this school certainly no freedom. I didn't want to come here, but I had no choice, my family was suddenly changed, I had to go south to the fence, my parents also drifted out for a living, and I haven't seen them for a long time.

　　I was afraid to talk to people, I was afraid to upset them because I was a foreigner, and I was afraid that they crowded me, but also this environment created my silent character. But who understands my heart, my heart is so hot, but is so fragile, as long as someone comes into me I am willing to talk with him. The teacher spoke softly and quickly above, the students were clapping their hands, and I was immersed in my world alone. This world does not belong to me, nor does it belong to her. Our encounter is nothing more than an unconscious collision of our hearts. The one sitting right next to me is her, she is so beautiful and kind, the youth of a young girl can be shown in her body. Their dark hair, cherry-like mouth, slender ice muscle, looks very beautiful, the most attracted me is her face, white and red, a baby fat pink, smile very spirited, intimate. She had a lot of snacks hidden in her drawer, including fruit, melon seeds, and raisins, and she would often use a bag to put the raisins in a box. I also often take advantage of her out of the classroom, from her drawer to take out the snacks, and then eat up alone, and when she is about to return, I will put it away, when she wants to get up, she will be in the drawer randomly looking up, I silently write the topic, pretend not to look at her I am watching her with a kind of afterglow, as if she suddenly thought up, turned his head to look at me, smiling at me, meaning You tell me you stole my snacks again. To her I am very cheeky, I also smile at her, and take out snacks I still eat, but she can not see me that dejected kind, one hand snatched back the snacks. As such, I am repeatedly unhappy each time. I remember her very lively, it seems that where I can see her, we talk every time like a quarrel, he always said but I, but every time we talk very happy. This is how two young hearts collided together, she was kind and lively, and I was funny and interesting. Time flies, high school in that busy, noisy, one day I said like me, but I did not say anything, I just laugh, I think the world does not belong to me, I can like who it is! From which we have not spoken since, after graduation, we each live in peace, life is confusing always let me think of her. I think she owes me a kiss because I never touched her, I never even touched her hand.

　　I lazed around in the winter, thinking and thinking, and I was still upset. Walking outside to the land, walking for a while and a while, my heart was even more unsettled. So I walked to the edge of the village mountain, where the plum blossoms scattered, light and elegant, the fragrance of flowers, very charming, a little cheerful mood, back home and fell asleep, in a dream, I met her, or that familiar scene, or that familiar face, or that moving gaze