Meet, the most beautiful color in my heart


The bustling eyes, the clouds and smoke. Most gratified, time is filled with tea, poetry, love, planting flowers, full of ambiguous thoughts, and full of rich thoughts, full of spring verdant…


When the wind comes, it will be a stunning dream of the snow moon, just like you have come, with the most beautiful compassion, gave me a white thought, since then, have a soft spot.


Cooking with a hot drink, some warmth grows in the heart, sprouts, sputum.


In spring, peach blossoms are full of trees, summer pools are collected, autumn nights are enjoying the moon, winter is snowing and snow is beautiful, these are beautiful to the extreme, beautiful to the ages without the annual rings, beautiful to only time to stay at this moment, Take advantage of this heart meeting.


Picking up poetry and thinking. A fragrance, in the time, quiet and good. Looking through the text, my heart filled with warm colored glass, read a beautiful heart, read the silence of time, read the love that opened in deep affection, and the heart was baptized in the spring.


Small characters, falling ink and fragrant, touching the heart, causing a sea of ​​Acacia to wet the sunshine.


In the hustle and bustle, there is a sly joy, and there is a thief in the poem. Listening, the wind is in the window, gazing, the beauty of the clouds is a touching verse of Yu Ting in the heart. I don’t want to let go of that look, just wait for the moonlight to be superimposed with dust. I will draw a journey for you and describe all my thoughts. From then on, I will meet the gentleness of the years. From then on, I miss you, look at Qingchuan…


At the bottom of the Loudi, there is always a clear, carrying spring, and sorrowful through the dream of Huaxi, which has the most clear moon in the heart and the deep whiteness of the pen.


I don’t wait for the flowers to bloom in this life, I don’t sigh, I just wait for you to come, pick this precious, and read the most pure language, and write the regrets of this life.


The simple time, the quiet past, the count, the heart is also like the water of the thoughts slowly open, warm and elegant, wet the night.


The hilarious little words boiled, the fragrant night of the sleeves, the winds in the poems, the snowy moon that confuses the eyes, and now, your city has been spring and rain, my city is warm and cold. Spring is on the road, and it will soon dye the scenery of your heart and my heart.


The fireworks are red and dusty, the word is fragrant, the whispering is thief, and the rhyme is gentle. At this time, I just want to hold the moon in the distance, and I will read it in the night, and grow into a 3,000-year poem. Then I will send you a long time together…


Moe on the ridge, plant a line of green onions, put a meditation on the meditation, heart and soul in the silence, Xu Rulian’s flowers in the picturesque red dust, quietly blooming. Quiet, when I wrote these small lines, I thought that my heart was quiet, soft, and awkward. Ink wrote the beauty that I met, and I felt this thought like water, gently stroked the heart of the lake, and the faint musk, filled the time on paper…


Time, although a little thin, has placed thousands of thoughts. Walking through the barriers of the earth, the plain flowers and the breeze on the other side always convey the message of love. Murray, looking at each other, but could not see all the emotions.


In the early spring, the wind is still somewhat clear. In the spring, the embroidered flower tree is full of whispers that you can understand. I want to wait for you in the sunshine. When you come, take the flowers, the poetry, and the silky fragrance at first sight. Since then, there has been no more sorrow in the hustle and bustle. From then on, there is no more frustration in my heart. Only warm love is in front of me, deep in time, and the most beautiful color in my heart.


Looking through, writing the old words of love, the heart still has a warm and quiet pass. Meet, is a different kind of color, inlaid in the wings of time, with the heart of the butterfly dance, the end of the world


On an ordinary day, cook a lonely fireworks, quiet and awkward, but the heart is full of unbridled glaze, and bring happiness to the depths of the heart.


At this time, I just remember that you have come to my world and lived in my poems.


Always write the mood to the extreme in a flower, always in a touch of love will be loved and fragrant, always on the branches of time and old with a bodhi-colored bead curtain, so that you can look up I saw a clear joy, lingering in the spring meditation, bathing the purity of life and the demise of love.


Looking back, those sentences that walk in my heart are always regrets that I have turned back thousands of times. I only say the flowing thoughts to you, wash the dreams of my life, make them clear, clear and able to see your mind, just as I am generally lush and long.


I really want to draw a moonlight in your eyebrows, and to ignite the night of dreams together with the thoughts. The burning affection is a verse that grows on the soul, a flower carved on the bone, and a slightly painful feeling.


The days are in a hurry, and the heart that loves you is getting clearer. I know that this encounter is the most beautiful moonlight and the most lonely.


Inviting words to sit and whisper, the tide of missing thoughts over the atrium, if the water, the clouds that live in the scorpion, the cotton is white, soft, soft, the palm holds the temperature like spring, the pen is free Then let me give you the most gentle time. There is a breeze in the time, there is a smoke moon, there is your lips, my whisper, and the flowers that slowly open, the dark fragrance fills the heart we can see and the invisible horizon, as in the eyes.


Boiled poetry and ink, embroidered with spring scenery, there is no loneliness in Moori, no degeneration, no helplessness, only two hearts dyed with warm colors, in the years when the wind and water began, silently poetry, warm and picturesque; In the dream of peace, the morning language whispered, Xu Hua Kai Ru Jin, Xu Guangyin as early as, Xu met like a poem, let the heart walk with elegance, each page carries the most beautiful colors of Qing Huan and love.


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