The softness of winter makes love linger

[1] shallow happiness, soft thoughts of winter softness, tied to the plum branches of Cold Mountain, silent language makes love linger. A River, flowing with memories, across my fault dream, in the thin bone West Wind, love has insomnia. I care about Arctic ice floes and Antarctic penguins in the hot winter. When the night came, I called for the dream of the morning. I wish the Penguins playing Snow, moored in a smile, grow into your distant thoughts. I followed your footprints, looking for the breath of that Oasis, full of calcium, indulging in a forgotten memory. The words of the wind beat the branches. Tomorrow, it will be red blossoms and green willows again. I want to tell you that life is a mountain. The cycle of the four seasons and the rotation of the Sun and the moon are all ferries from this side of the mountain to the other side of the mountain, in the middle of which are the bitter, sour, sweet and happy joys and sorrows we have experienced. I want to tell you that happiness is a lamp. It shines when we need light, and it produces warmth when we need warmth. The light makes us recall, and the warmth makes us cherish. I want this mountain of life to bring you beautiful memories and soft warmth. I want this lamp of happiness to bring you pleasant happiness and joy. Behind the words, there are shallow time and gentle. [2] In the years of green onion, the sunshine is very warm. In this winter, one thought, one heart, another thought, and the city. My poor poetry can’t help your broad heart. My melancholy worry, I can’t get out of your transparent dream full of love. Your world is a cloud of flowers, fragrant and bright smiling faces are colorful. Your heart is holy, shy and smiling, and the slim Jade shadow is delicate and attractive. I want to make your withered and thin dreams wet with the dry and lofty sentiments of winter. Let your poetry like flowers be vivid into a snowy landscape. In the years of green onion, your warmth will call me, your softness will warm up the whole winter, and you will be bright blue, graceful and graceful, and will not spread, igniting my heart. The flames flowing in your heart render winter into spring, and the clump of fire trees and silver flowers are colorful into lakes and mountains under your caress. In the flashing time, you washed yourself repeatedly with holy tears, and the clean skin was covered with dew and fragrant. Your thin shoulder, let the happy bird stay, your dream shy, holding the spring water sleeve, slowly flowing east. You are my desire to stay on the autumn water for thousands of years. I picked up the fragments of time, left beautiful words on the petals, warmed the memories of mountains and rivers, and collected a touch of affectionate sunshine. The sunshine always goes from one place to another. The sunshine often meets us at a fixed place and at a fixed time. Nod, smile, say hello. Blessing, hope, wish. Sunshine is an encounter, just like meeting wind and rain, full of confusion and philosophy. Everything will pass, and the smile will bloom in the dust-free affection. We talk, or we don’t talk. We sit in time, or in memory. We quietly felt our encounter in our ancient way. In fact, there is nothing between us. Perhaps, our relationship is only because we meet at a fixed time and a fixed place in a certain period of time of our life. But because of meeting, we will feel very warm in a shallow time. [3] In the fairy tale of ICE CLEAR, the spring in my heart walked into this winter, delivering traditional stringed and woodwind instrument Qingyin with numerous strings and urgent pipes, and exchanging dust and fireworks for okho Bing Xin. Let that dead tree blossom, let the stone speak, let the snow be tangible and colored, let the ice have love and righteousness, and let you be pure into a fairy tale. After going through the vicissitudes of the sea, returning to the sea, the spring blossoms. When flowers bloom and childlike innocence begins to turn green, you are my spring wings. When we look back on the past, a kind of emotion is clear and clear, deep and dignified, stopping our heart. Splash ink mountains and rivers, it must be an eternal spring. This winter is not cold, the sunshine shines on my heart softly, you open my dream with tender exhortation, the blue surging, undulating heart, my clear soul suddenly gave birth to the feeling of spring, the lightness of cicada wings swimming, and stepped on the long bell of my heart. One road, thousands of mountains and rivers. Ancient rattan, old tree, Crow. One road, clean and clean. Morning Dew, miaolian, snowflake. Any season is a state, and we should deeply feel the warmth and prosperity. Just like a inscription that cannot be interpreted by language, it is engraved in every season of our life. In those seasons, I tasted your language, like snow dyed the soft honey of dusk. I have read your moistening, such as the blooming beauty of spring. Your emptiness is clear, your Jade is not divided into seasons, and your abundant poetry enriches the memories of the years. You took me to the most beautiful dream, where there is bright moon and breeze, where there are Yushu honeysuckle, where there are flowing stars, where there are whirling colorful clouds. Flying Flowers splash Jade pure, grass and trees are sentimental. The shaky Sun, sinking a sandalwood, woke up the dawn. I woke up from my dream and heard a string of footsteps walking away. My eyes were wet with the fatal encounter thoughts. I don’t know how to ask about the return date, but I want to ask when is goodbye? I saw that the branches of winter, the delicate and pure wind, were whispering to a piece of snowflake. Oh, please say goodbye gently and gracefully. I don’t shout, give me time, give me some time, let me change with time. [4] The softness of winter, with love lingering cold winter day, I would like to be YILI happy dust, with that little crystal clear, warm your eyes. I remembered the scene of that night, when the sky was empty and the moon was scarce, all was silent, only the snow was burning. The sound of snow shocked the eyes of the crescent moon. The eyes of the Moon were like a fragrant fountain, folding thousands of words into a treasure. The moon’s eyebrows are covered with the ice of the years, which solidifies the feelings into the wind. Pushing away the heavy snow all over the sky, the moon lit up the firm heart, and a spring became a state of mind, simple and warm. At this time, I looked up at the moon, the moon looked up at the snowflakes, and the warm spring breath blossomed quietly. You have a quiet Lotus Heart, lying in the clean place, Jade clean, clear my eyes. In the desert, in the south of the Yangtze River, in the grassland, in the island, you have the figure. I know that your pride will never fly that vast area. I also know that your pride will always thrive on that richness. Keep Mao Lu alone and listen to the spring in the moon. The heart of Ding Dong shines into your smile and sleeps with dreams every night. Standing on the edge of the season, listen to your heavy swoon, tears streaming down your face. Dreams are always better and more thorough than reality. A little tears fall, and missing is already very beautiful. Just for that white promise. Just for that silent rock. The overwhelming wish pervaded the hard brow and never faded. The softness of winter makes love linger

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