Life is warm and cold, like the cycle of the four seasons, autumn and winter.
The earthly glitz, like a clear tea spirit, bitter and sweet.
The snow was falling, like catkins dancing and laughing, and I was wandering alone in the wind. Snowflakes, like wordless poems, fell gently, covering the earth, covering my footprints and hiding my scars.
Tears flowed quietly, like a drizzle, sliding down her cheeks and rippling in her heart. In this silence, tears welled up, salty and long. The difficulties of life, the ups and downs of career, and the perception of life constitute the ingredient list of mixed tastes.
Life is not only about what is in front of you, but also about poetry and distance.
I think so, reluctantly, it is the triviality and struggle of reality, the hustle and bustle of the world. Poetry is the comfort and nourishment of the soul, and the freedom and soaring of the soul. And the distance is the other side of the ideal and the pursuit, the stars and the harvest of dreams.
Walking in the snow, feeling the temperature of the snow, the saltiness of tears, and the ups and downs of life. I know that life doesn't change because of my tears, and it doesn't change for the better because of my expectations. But I still believe that as long as there is poetry in my heart and a distant place, I can get strength in the mud of life and realize my dreams.
The snow is still falling, and the tears are still flowing quietly. But I know that this is not the end, but a new beginning. I will continue to move forward with my love for life and anticipation for the future.
Because I know that life is not only about me, but also about poetry and distance.
Previous articles: Snow falls every year, snow falls every year, there is a warm tea in winter, and a few cups of wine are happy.
The cold of the great cold, the north wind blows the geese and snow, the candle shadow is full of thoughts, the old man sits alone in the west window, listens to the wind and listens to the snow, listens to the heart, a poem, a wine, a clear tea in the winter cold solstice, Rui Xuefei, you can be fine
Text丨Huang Chi Yumo.
Figure丨From the Internet, invaded and deleted.