Bits of memory

The trace of time fades away on our foreheads, softly and noiselessly.

Fragmentary memories, reappear in our minds, quietly, only memories.

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Is the leaf falls to float down that moment, or the flower withered that moment.

Put down the pen, like a grain of sand quietly drop, settle the dust. Pick up the pen, like a gust of wind gently blowing, dimly discernible.

I stand at my window in the evening and ask myself, what color is loneliness? Is the silver of the moon. Or the blue of the sea?

Waiting outside the door of the dawn, I ask the flower, what is the smell of happiness? Is it the fragrance of violets or the tipsy smell of wine?

Lurking at the end of the night, I ask Ye, what is the sound of melancholy? Was it the sound of the babbling water beside the stream, or the long-isolated birdsong outside the window?

Loneliness, is a difficult taste, always let a person impetuous.

Looking out of the window, I quietly thinking, thinking about that time like water, thinking about those who have, thinking about the dawn of the morning light.

I do not know when, outside the window gradually hazy drizzle... Filar silk rain, broke my thoughts, also broke the silence of the dawn, disturb my sight.

He went softly to the window and listened carefully to the rain. "The falling... That was the sound of rain, wasn't it? Not so saccharine, not so silent. It was full of quiet, silent voices, quiet, but not silent. As if all around because of the rain flying and meditation, only the sound of rain. "The falling... Is still that thin voice, so beautiful, but why with a few silk melancholy? Is it crying gently? Is the misty drizzle the lonely tears of the sky? If not, why so lonely?

The rain has been falling, everything outside the window, is quiet, quiet...... Occasionally a few drops of rain touched the glass. Drops......" And the wind, is also hiding in a place no one? Open the window, silk rain gently floating on me. I can't forget it. It was a cool, cold feeling.

Loneliness, is the quiet sound of rain, is no wind of the world. It is soft, it is transparent, and it is cold.

Rain, do not stop, there is always a pause. The wind, although has gone, but there is always a time to come back.

"Aww... Fast......" ... The same familiar voice stole past my ears. What's that noise? That's the wind, isn't it? Still soft, still deep. But the moment the wind blows, the heart always has a kind of lost feeling however. Like a broken string, only the residual sound after the break, quietly aftertaste... I do not know when, the air filled with the sound of the wind, so rapid, so messy... Cold and warm, this is not lonely feeling?

Gawked at for a long time, also stopped for a long time. Out of the window, is there the sound of rain? Is there still a flutter of wind?

I got up and looked out the window. On the other side of the window, the wind stopped and the rain disappeared. It was still so quiet. A beam of sunlight came straight in and hit the floor, and suddenly the floor was golden, so smooth, so dazzling. And the air, because of the sun, and become so warm.

The e afternoon sun, so warm, shining on the floor, like pieces of broken gold shining. Habitually sitting in a chair, looking out the window --

Outside the window, it was a clear sky. Blue sky, no floating clouds. The wind gently blowing across the face, a piece of willow leaves, swaying in the wind. Rustling, so quiet sound, so comfortable feeling...

Loneliness is a kind of beautiful emotional appeal, not boring, it also needs our heart to feel, to feel. Lonely time, oneself often a person is doing in the window side, also do not want to do what thing, the only desire, is quiet, so a person stays, do not take a trace of care. But I like the feeling of loneliness, perhaps people in loneliness, will understand a lot.

In a trance, I do not know it is dusk. Habitually walk back to the room, sit in that empty corner, that is a lonely space. Gently pick up a pen, turn on the MP3, the music starts, and it's your world. Ears echoed with the melody of music, oneself also follow the melody and throb. What kind of feeling is that, lonely? Maybe not. Happy? Probably not. It is a kind of spiritual intoxication, it is the sublimation of loneliness, but also a unique feeling.

The song.

Look out the window again, the last wisp of flowers, also disappeared in the wind......

Shitai County, Chizhou City, Anhui Province, Grade one: Zhou Yang