In summer, the lingering rain spills on the pond, half refreshing and half charming. The squiggly ripples are charmingly reflecting the shadow of the lotus. The wind of the willow slowly blows the petal rain, radiantly radiating, and an inch of lovesickness. At this time, there are fish seeking dreams, swimming happily, ripples and tenderness circle, and more and more blurred.
Walking in the dust, it is happiness to be able to meet, you hold my hand, and sing along the way, the melodious song makes you laugh so good, on the road of love, it’s great to meet you, because there is one who understands In the life where your person appears, cherish and love you every day, it is enough to accompany each other with your fingers.
Several cicadas are hiding on willow branches, like a hairpin welcoming the midsummer, one after another melody is swaying in the wind, lovesickness sighs in the color. Memories of the past are like yesterday, some longing melancholy, gently picking up those deep love. Those nostalgias written on the eyebrows and in the heart, in the bright days, faintly exudes a hint of sweet fragrance, and a trace of warmth entangles between the fingers.
Time is clear, guarding the water and moon, I like to twist a scent of fragrance into the painting, a pleasant taste emerges spontaneously, some love will also be smart and elegant, and the tenderness rain will be crystal clear, look up, the clouds and the clouds are comfortable, and I look into the distance , The flowers bloom beautifully, the cherries are red, the years are drunk, the waves are still, the youth is blooming, and the memories slowly grow old in time.
A love, forever knots of one heart, flowers blooming in the sun, at a glance for ten thousand years, the piano and the sound, each other, thinking of your tenderness, pink cheeks, Nana waist. Life will miss the lingering, if you don’t say it, just come in with money, I don’t go, it’s enough for you to understand, a fragrance, wisps of wind and moon, a love, graceful poetry, such as jade, warm time, dreaming, drunken butterfly . Lovesickness, people are happy.
There are too many gossips in this world, whether they are thorns or thorns, they are all accepted. Plum blossoms are scented from cold and snow, lotus is delicate in sludge, self-satisfied in heart, sinking to Prajna, silent.
Flip the plain paper lightly, passing the year with a finger of quicksand, the ethereal world, the painting becomes a scene, in a scene of condensed smoke, swaying a lot of misty, neon clothes dance, and chanting all the way to the fragrance of the moon.
