Flowers pick up dreams, meet at this moment, sing to wine, don't ask the geometry of the world, drizzle and breeze are the same color as spring, and light words flow, nourishing the spring flowers of a season. Excerpts from the emotional diary "Spring is warm, bloom flowers are fragrant, time is light, love is in the wind", and more logs are in the diary network of fresh graduates.
Bloom is warm in spring, time flies, and love follows the wind.
The weather is sunny, windy, warm and rainy, blue, willow is connected with the riverside, Liujiang is warm, bloom is warm in spring, and the sunset glow is red.
When the peach blossoms fall, the spring is infinitely beautiful. When I meet you, my heart is still missing, and I still cut my snuff at night.
Spring is warm with flowers, time is light with the wind, the wind is light with fog and rain, and the wind is far away. In April, the weather is warm and sunny, the flowers in the yard next door are blooming, the willows on the shore are whispering, the willows are red in spring, and the spring breeze and drizzle are playing the prelude to spring. The breeze slowly combed the dancing willows, and the birds sang the beauty of this spring. There is dense fog around the distant mountains, and the green grass is also happy. A pregnant painting, drinking and enjoying feelings, singing the wind and playing the moon, has nothing to do with what he said, and singing and walking, quietly guarding a dream's sense of security and nurturing feelings.
Time flies, and the past is full of heartbreak. Walking through the snowy moon, it is as prosperous as a dream, leaving behind the melancholy of falling in love. Through the spring, summer, autumn and winter, how many past events are like smoke, leaving a sad loss. Once, in the past, I went to Qiu Lai in the spring, but I couldn't catch the fleeting time. I can't catch fate. There is a companionship, an expectation, a silence, a memory, a bitterness and a yearning, which is called yearning and longing.
Spring is like autumn, it is warm and cold at first sight, staring at the distance, and the smoke is boundless and silent. Acacia is not over yet, and I can't tell, just because it overflows with too many thoughts, too many expectations and too much love. Years are like you, a book is full of acacia, dipped in a wisp of flowers, depicting an eternal love in rhyme; Heroic, holding dreams, quietly, singing immortal chapters; A touch of morning glow, a lifetime of concern, a season of romantic streamer in warmth.
Swallow bloom, drizzle and breeze, MengMeng in spring, whisper in a fleeting time, moisten bloom in spring. If the water is clear and fragrant, the light rain will slow down. Suddenly, it snowed in March. You come from the world of mortals as promised, as elegant as lotus and as graceful as Lan Jingxian. Smiles like flowers soften my eyes. Looking back for a moment, we met warmly, twisted a finger flower, and the world of mortals missed each other. One knows that time is quiet and beautiful, and the fleeting time is like petal rain, flowing through our fingers with a faint fragrance.
When they met, they hurried by. Holding hands with beautiful women, tears break the beauty. How much is Dongfeng? Spring is always there, with whom! Warm rain, sunny wind, the beginning of breaking ice, the eyes of willow leaves and the cheeks of plum all feel the heart of spring. Who and * * *? Tears melt powder, and the buds are heavy. You have a snowball fight in a white suit, ride a canoe, swing the river and spend the moon, play and answer straight, and walk around in your clothes, which is chic and dignified. I am drinking wine with your childhood, enjoying the picturesque scenery, sitting in the ebb and flow place, watching colorful flowers bloom everywhere, mountains and rivers are even the same color, and the sunset is on the other side.
Flowers pick up dreams, meet at this moment, sing to wine, don't ask the geometry of the world, drizzle and breeze are the same color as spring, and light words flow, nourishing the spring flowers of a season. Heroic, holding dreams, quietly, singing immortal chapters; With a touch of dawn, I will be connected with you for the rest of my life, and in the warmth, I will start a season of romantic streamers. Quietly hold the pen end and read each other. Pale like water, dotted with mottled time in the fleeting time. Meeting is a kind of beauty, cherish the beautiful meeting, find a bosom friend in the mountains and rivers, and write a song of acacia.
Spring is long, snuggling and dependent, affectionate, tender and sweet, want to talk, gentle as jade. A heart sound washes away the dust in the world. A wisp of flower soul, intoxicated in aesthetic sadness. An encounter poured out mountains and rivers. One thought is persistent, and love is divided into life and death. Ming Che, the spring water, is blue and has poured a lot of heart into it. Finger red dust, after a thousand generations, turned into sorrow. I hope to win a heart and never leave each other. Listen to bloom, waiting for you for a thousand years. Suddenly looking back, the other shore bloomed, the sleeves danced last month, and the ink dyed Jiangnan.
The spring breeze in the dream is soft, the rainy night is quiet and clear, and the feelings are long and long. Lonely and cold, alone in the west wing, flying like a dream, misty rain like sorrow. Love does not stop, hate does not stop, and the curtain is thin and thin. A love that consumes everything, the sky is blue and the moon is like a hook. Jinse for no reason, string in the wind, floating tea, singing softly, collecting pigeons, the heart is like a boat. Startled, but looking back, half-baked new words overlap in spring. It rained heavily and the wind was light. Living in a foreign land, with green willows and pink makeup, plums and plums, bloom in spring, mountains and rivers, and the sun and the moon are happy together.
The new taste of wine makes you intoxicated. Wake up late and push the window, and the courtyard is desolate. I regret that Fanghua wasted her tears. Life is short, and the time is ripe. I fell in love at first sight, and then I fell in love again. Wan Li smoke, unintentional smile. But lovesickness takes you. Spring jathyapple glance, sad one thousand times. Brush your eyebrows lightly, dress up alone, and be full of vermilion tears. The night is still early, and the dream of spring night is hard to imagine. Sleeping with a curtain and dreaming, a poem is a beautiful chapter. Looking at the place where Qian Fan is, I feel like a fog. I don't admire the beauty of the crowd, but I hear subtle language.
Light smoke and fog, dark night, thin moon as cold, light rain is slow. Miss the past, empty as a dream, a deep feeling froze my eyes. The cold wind is like frost, when is it picturesque? A farewell to the world of mortals, a thousand miles of marriage worries, a dream in vain. Butterfly feathers are empty, and fiddling with them is a carving cage. A wisp of ink soul, a Wan Yun and a long blue valley. Lingbu flowers, skirts float lightly, smell Mei Fang, and the spectrum is long. Tea adds fragrance, like clouds dancing with sleeves, moonlight, fog and non-fog, flowers and non-flowers, smiling and loving.
All kinds of feelings, all kinds of thoughts, shallow pen and simple heart, understatement, pen walking between the world of mortals, lingering love, green mountains and green waters, looking back for an instant. Light words, time has been immersed in countless lovesickness. Gather your fingertips, and your affection becomes a concern. A warm thought, through the dust of years, can reach the other side of your soul. A wish, across the sky of memory, only wishes that you and I are in peace, only wishes to miss, love for a long time, love for a thousand years, and love for more.
Fog and rain are far away, looks and thoughts are together, silent and dusty, smiling at the ink in the text, counting the fleeting years, ignoring the watery years in memory, and crossing the years, the road has been extending under your feet. Through the dust, the heart is fragrant at the end of the pen. Looking back, love has always been quiet in the soul; Thousands of years of reincarnation, love has quietly opened in a smile. The book is full of dreams of this life, full of mountains and rivers, full of peach blossoms and new clothes, full of red flowers and willows, full of indifferent life, full of warm spring in bloom, full of time and full of love for blowing in the wind.
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