Spring Rain

Looking forward to a whole winter, finally, you are here.

In a blink of an eye, your crystal-clear figure has shaken in front of my window, and your crisp throat is ringing my window paper. How do you rush to put on your clothes and push the door open ! I greet you.

Looking at you, my eyes can’t be transferred for a moment ; listening to you, my eardrum does not let go of a syllable. From the distant horizon to the indifference of Pingchuan, you are struggling with birth and death every minute. The joy of life, the fear of death, singing and shouting: Ding Ding Dong Dong. I am really greedy, greedily want to hold you, have you. So I sniffed you, smelled you, and comforted you with my cracked lips. How many days of waiting for anxiety, when you kissed you, it was smooth and smooth.

Come on, dear you. Look at the time with me and watch the boy who listened to the rain ten years ago. April West Lake, yellow | colored Liu Mei fall, lake in the colorful light blue light blue sky. On that day, on the Yanziji, I leaned on the “red building” to dream about the fat of the six dynasties. You yell at me with a cheeky cool, dripping, really want to say still rest ? In the north of the carriage, there is a basket full of contempt, you sent. From Suzhou to Pennsylvania, only the radio said “Jianghuai”, also said “Huangmeiyu.”

Ten years, I saw the scenery outside the scene for ten years. The taste of the North is only when the snow is overwhelming. The white branches, the white rocks, the white glaciers, and the strongness of the Hucheng Guanshan are all in it. The northeast likes to build a house with red bricks, and there is an arrogance in the bright colors. After living for ten years, I have never been used to it. I had to hang a wind chime outside the window. I went to the Hanshan Temple in the soft and soft Kunqu at night, thinking about the green mountains and green waters in my memory. Jiangnan likes the blue bricks, and the plains stand in the fields faintly, and there is a rain ticking on the tiles, picking up a gentle gray * .

Can the wind bells be used as the rain of my hometown? Can the dreams of the night be the same as the ones that listen to the rain ? The warmth drifts from there…

Come on, baby you ! Give me the slightest silk cents breath south. Can’t fall into her arms, it’s comforting to be swept away by her eyes.

Looking forward to more than 3,600 days, I still can’t set a date.

I hope that for a whole winter, you will fall from the clouds of your hometown and fall on my hair, lips, and heart…