Melancholy in the Palm of My Hand

The moon still shines brightly, the night still fragrant, like your soul, a clarity like poetry. Gazing deeply, countless strands of gentle waves linger between my fingers, an endless legend rising in its fullness. Those persistent longings have already turned into drifting sand and submerged into the depths of the river of hearts; those cut off and endlessly tangled affections, like ripples, gently rise at the corner of time. On a day of deep affection, guarding is to place you within my heart, your unique bearing, that moonlight illuminating the innocence, is a wondrous and beautiful landscape nourishing the soul; even when flowers bloom abundantly on the branches and you turn away, in my heart, I can still retain your original fragrance and affection. This journey through mountains and rivers, with you, is a blessing.

Cloudy and serene, time is still and steady. Storing warm sunshine in the dark ink, leaving some lingering intoxication, depicting the cyclical flow of the four seasons. Writing with a wistful hand, dancing with words like a water sleeve, soothing my long, lonely nights. Like brocade, you send your thoughts from afar, warming the memories of my life; time like jade, eventually a strand of longing quietly climbs onto my eyebrows, a graceful dance of sorrow in the palm of my hand. Elegant tranquility hidden within a fleeting encounter, shrouded in a hint of pink, a green hue quietly blooms on a simple, white paper, carrying a sense of serenity and purity, like dew drops, exchanging a simple, heartfelt embrace. Protecting a window of warm time, my thoughts remain light and airy, savoring the small joys, elegantly curving poetry nestled in my eyebrows, gently wrapping in the footsteps of time, singing along softly along the way. I wish to use a lifetime of tenderness to exchange for your lifelong devotion, dancing together through an eternity of stories.