Teardrops can blossom into their fragrance

　　Long peach blossom water, clear willow wind. The years have warmed the warmth of the four seasons, and the years have traveled the winds of time. But I always want to hold the hand of the dream, so that youth has another look back. If the youth have a return, I want to do what is it? I think it will be to wipe away the tears on your face, to practice all that I had promised to you. The first thing you need to do is to make up for all the shortcomings in the present. No more regrets, to let tomorrow you, still for a tangle of emotions and frown your brow.

　　In the early morning, go to the beautiful outdoors and let go of all that your heart envisions. Pull a strand of white clouds and lay them flat on the ground. Hold a handful of colorful haze, as a base color. Use the mirage of the dreamlike technique, the splendor of the seven rainbow bridges, splashed on top of the white clouds. For your dream, for your purity, make a painting. Let the painting of you, forever laughing. Barefoot, running all the way, to find your yearning. The distant sky is still flying with the white doves you released.

　　In the evening, I will go barefoot to the beautiful beach. Pick up the colorful shells, facing the beautiful evening sun. Under the sunset, which is about to fade out, on the beautiful beach. With a bizarre technique, I put together a painting made with my heart from the shells I picked up. In the painting, there is only romance, only wonder, no worries, and not too much-unwarranted horror and horror. In my painting, I will never let the sunset hang on the top of the distant western mountains, but let the sunset stay on the East Sea forever. Although it is impossible, for your sake, I am still willing to attempt to borrow the next day's tide, so that the raging seawater conveys my heart.

　　In the spring, I would sacrifice all my time to sweep up the peach and apricot blossoms that have fallen all over the place. To find a secluded place where there is a bubbling stream, a riverbed with white clouds lining the blue sky, and unknown flowers of various colors quietly blooming on the riverbank. I will weave a garland with all the peach and apricot blossoms, leaving behind the fragrance of all the stamen blooms. Use the unknown flowers of all colors as a companion to wrap around you. Then let the water of the stream, carry you down the stream. I will then diffuse all the fetched fragrance over the wreath, and let all the bees and glistening butterflies, singing all the way to escort you, to find and take back the white horse of your heart.

　　In the hot summer, I would like to pluck a lotus leaf for a boat and carry another beautiful and clean lotus flower in the boat. On a bright moonlit night with a refreshing breeze, I will use my heart as a paddle to take you to any mountain in your heart, any mountain you look forward to and admire, shuttling and running back and forth between mountains and rivers. Follow the moonlight and enjoy the gentleness of the summer breeze. Let the moonlight spill its tenderness into the scenery of the lake and make you forget all your misfortunes and sorrows. The drops of dew are the tears hanging on your face. But it is the happy upward slightly curved and slightly squinted eyes hanging on the corners, hanging the kind of pearly tears. May you put your tender white and pink feet into the clear water of the lake, stirring happily. May your hands be raised upward to make the gesture of embracing the moon, while releasing all the depression and pain you have pent up in your chest for a long time.

　　In autumn, I will pick up a piece of fallen leaves by the tree in the high sun. Put them tightly around the tree. Whether it is the wind blowing or the rain beating, I am not willing to recount that rain is the melancholy of clouds and clouds are the hometown of rain. Or the rain is the pursuit of the cloud, the cloud is the rain's hope and yearning. More reluctant to recount, leaves fall is the tree's helplessness, leaves drift is the tree can not carry too many years of sorrow and wait. I will use my pen to depict that leaf fall is the hope of the chrysanthemum, and leaf fluttering is the dream and expectation of the chrysanthemum's anger. All the wind and rain are the eagerness and care for the chrysanthemum, all the leaves fall and the fragrance of flowers is the kiss and favor to the chrysanthemum. Let your heart, have less sorrow, less desolation, less desolation, and helplessness. Let you look up and see the happiness in your dreams, and let you step down to the smile and cheerfulness of reality forever. Open your arms, and embrace the warmth of the seasons. A flying kiss, the release is your initial good and life's gorgeous and colorful future.

　　In winter, I will curl up in a corner and quietly wait for your arrival. Then we will share the strange cypress of the absolute cliff in a quiet long pavilion. I'd like to make a fusion for the snowflakes and applaud the greenery covered under the bright white snow. Holding your hand and holding your waist, we tread the snow to enjoy the plum blossoms in the corner. After your song, you can smell there is a dark fragrance coming. Stretch out one of my fingers, stretch out one of your fingers, and on the white snow, draw two crossed hearts. Pick up the fallen plum blossoms and plant a little bit of red representing blood in the center of the two crossed hearts. Let this little red can also inspire fervent hope, and can also burn the hot dreams that fly in the cold winter. From now on, between you and me, no more confusion, no more uncertainty, no more suspicion, no more barriers. All you can have is the joy of holding hands, happy snuggling, and full of all the joy of the world's heart and tell the endless pleasure of feelings.

　　Too much helplessness, the mountains, and rivers will not be able to carry. Too long to wait, the years will not be able to withstand the test. The first thing you need to do is to get a good idea of the future, but it is always difficult to write a testable agreement for the future. With the warmth of the hand, it is difficult to predict the future. In the future, why is it always difficult to believe in the initial vows? The pen in your hand is most happy to describe the moment of holding hands, the moment of warmth and tenderness. The fact is that you can't tell the breakdown of the breakup in detail, nor can you record the tears that fly, and the painful confessions. The prayer of the hands together facing God only shows that the red carpet leading to the holy temple has been quietly rolled up by who knows who, never to be seen again.

　　There is a pursuit to dream, and there is a dream situation to imagine that happy passion. It is not all helplessness to let go, there are also kites with broken strings. The embrace, not all can be the best meet. There are also forced into reality, the reality of never being able to say the bitterness. The people who are down and out always like to sleep, because sleep can give the people who are down and out a mirage-like bizarre dream. Just like people walking in the desert, what they would like to hear is always the sound of a bubbling spring flowing. People in the dream world are always able to go back to the past. It is also always possible to seek a trace of comfort in the dream, to dispel the heart of the desolate cold.

　　The people who are happy in their dreams are most afraid of the early morning. Because with the dawn of a rooster crowing, along with the first rays of the rising sun, the dream will eventually wake up. The loneliness after waking up is comparable to the sudden awakening after drunkenness. In addition to two lines of tears, then the years are relentless. The fact is that you can find a lot of people who are not able to get a good deal on a lot of things.

　　The fact is that you will not be able to get a lot of money from the company. Open your hand and let the tears of happiness warm the tenderness of your palm. Open your heart and let your moods and dreams fly together. Do not be a bee and butterfly chasing the scent of flowers in all seasons, just be the ray of moonlight that keeps clean for the lotus.

　　Watching her feet and paying attention to her figure. Looking forward to her jumping figure at the end of the lights. Watching her smile, always use their enthusiasm to melt the ever-precious one in their hands, so precious that once lost, it is difficult to regain the treasure in their hands - the crystalline heart.

　　The four seasons are not only for the time to make a biography, time is not only for the flow of years to continue to write the rumor. The year is not only for the red color, the red color is not always able to write the opening preamble for the year.

　　The fact is that you'll be able to get a lot more than just a few of the most popular and most popular items.