I like the window, and I always feel that the window is the outlet of dreams and hearts.
From time to time, a person sits quietly in front of the window, counts the past, picks up the memories of the past, collects them properly, and lets them sleep quietly, waiting for the wind to rise, and then gently wake up.
In autumn, the windowsill of falling flowers, flowing with the colors polished by time, frozen in the depths of the years, quiet and thin, in the dark night, full of moonlight, falling to the cold and melancholy.
Tonight, who is whose distance, who is singing in loneliness?Slightly cool fingertips, can only bloom the appearance of missing flowers, exuding a refreshing fragrance, a light inhalation, drunk atrium, fingers around the bones, a season of flowers, a season of fragrance, a season of loneliness, in the water of the time hidden.
For love, dream for life", the sad song is sung in my heart over and over again, missing, fleeing, hurting, and disappearing into a blank and confused in a thousand turns.
Autumn night, cold, silent and quiet, the faint moonlight brushes away the prosperity and vicissitudes of the red dust, the lights on the riverside, like the dust edge of a dream, pull the soft feelings in the heart, find a reason for love to fly.
The cool autumn breeze takes away the temperature of the day, and in the distance, the tall buildings hide in the gray night, leaving only my thoughts of you, in the silence of losing the temperature, gradually growing quietly.
I don't know if the moonlight in the south will illuminate the dream, and whether the lights of the city will meet where you want?Listen, someone is singing: Do you know I'm waiting for you?The old lyrics drift in the night, through the deep time, the aftermath is lingering, the voice is entangled in the desert autumn cold, and it cannot find its direction......The singer has walked away, and the thin coolness of a dream has slipped behind him, dripping with deep sadness, no one can see his face clearly, only a back figure walking towards the ...... in the distance
Xi is used to being alone in the quiet night, following the melody of Tang poems and songs, accompanied by nostalgic songs, finding a quiet corner, placing one's own thoughts, circles, remembering, remembering, writing, and healing.
When the dream is no longer wandering in the sky in October, but the autumn rain always does not understand the amorous feelings, teasing my feelings, how many times have I asked my heart, whether the love in the previous life has been nirvana in this life?After years of tossing and turning, who knows that the corner of the season is contaminated with a pool of death, the water is also cold, and the fingers are twisted.
Origin and extinction, floating like a dream, only listen to the whispers in the wind, some people sing "the west wind is cold, has broken intestines, under the moonlight, it is love".