Time, I like to exist with a calm demeanor, without needing a wealthy and prosperous life, as long as there is heartwarming cherishing, as long as there is tacit joy, in love, in heart, unwavering loyalty, in love, in dreams, never abandoning, never parting, that's enough. Along the way, flowers fall and bloom, and after countless storms. A season's fleeting blush has long been crystallized into memories of eternity in the passage of time. Occasionally blurred figures also become beautiful memories in my heart.

Serenity is the cherished pursuit for this lifetime, as well as this precious gem in the midst of fireworks. Therefore, I have been seeking and searching in a walk and stop, all for the casualness I yearn for in my heart, which can be shallow and faint in the midst of fireworks, or easily and casually walk through the fields. Looking back, this thin chill, only you always accompany me, reach out my hand when I'm lonely, write a red book on the dust, and bestow you with a wisp of warm fragrance with a smile.

Dreams can be fleeting, or intense, recalling the existence of the thought, or blooming spontaneously, or silently extinguished, mottled and mottled, remaining in the past, sculpting the fireworks of love. In the four seasons, flowers bloom and fall, the scenery in the flow also has the joy of first sight, and the sorrow of withered flowers. The past is pieced together, drop by drop, evoking the feeling of nostalgia. In the years to come, and in the long-awaited future, it interprets the fragrance.

Walking, with dreams, also with my heart. The road beneath my feet carries my intentions, and also contains my thoughts. Along the way, we may encounter storms and cold currents, and we don't know what kind of scenery we will meet at the end. So, I'm leaning on my thoughts, and I'm passionate about my dreams, striving hard, and persisting. The future will not be disappointed with my initial intentions. Thoughts constantly flash in my mind, like fragments of a movie. One by one, they drift across my eyes, I don't know how your future will be, perhaps the next second you will be in front of me, perhaps the waiting will continue endlessly!

Years flow, and it has its original appearance, engraved with vicissitudes, carrying frost and snow, in the face, in the heart, also in the fine lines in the corners of the eyes, forming poems in wrinkles, and frost whitening into rhymes, bearing the harvest of the years, and marking the trace of thoughts. The pen gently writes proverbs of longing for you, deeply calling you in beautiful and elegant poems. I like to write words quietly at night, watching you sleep beside me, seeing your warm smile, all my unhappiness disappears in that moment.

In the midst of smoke and haze, there are mountains and rivers with dreams, there is love in years, looking back, the past wandering and shadow, one journey one scene, one journey one dream, following the thoughts, coloring the raindrops in every pier, mixed with joy and sorrow, carried by the wind and frost, rendering the original unforgettable thoughts, weathered in memory. The past has dreams and hearts, and the future has roads and dreams. The journey depicts the landscape of mountains and rivers, and admires the boundless spring. The flow encounters the decisive decisiveness of falling flowers, and also listens to the dreamy thinking of the breeze...

Every story's beginning is beautiful, beautiful to the point where we don't want to believe we ever had it. For me, every story of you is a beautiful love story, like a few falling maple leaves, swept away by the breeze, lifting my head, closing my eyes, the warm sunshine falls on my face, in this life and this world, as long as you are here, I ask for nothing else. The most beautiful years, we walk hand in hand together!

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