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25.07.2019 09:28
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Looking back at the other side, spring, summer, autumn and winter, the dust is flying, the flower is the second, the world is a dream, only to find an old acquaintance. The red and green of the years is a love song that is not always old Carton Of Cigarettes. It is about love, but it doesn't matter to you or me. Missed in the years, you and I like the mountains and rivers no longer meet, is a distant and untouchable sadness. Time, over the clouds, but the ancient times do not change, use text to slowly familiar with the time, follow its footsteps, record the scenery you have passed, and take your beauty to the eye. You are like a beautiful woman, and it is joy for you to do your best for you. Love you, it is a pain that can't be forgotten; the world is full of joy, the vertical and horizontal, the light of the palm mirror Marlboro Red, and the love of the thin rose reminiscing, writing the love song of the next life for you, waiting for the next meeting. "The bunch of sunshine, through my eyes" The summer of the crape myrtle blossoms, the flowers around the shoulders. You are like a little child, shy and cute, like to be lazy in the arms of the sun; return the warmth of the sun with the most pure and bright smile Online Cigarettes, quietly breathing, quietly miss. Vaguely remember the bunch of sunshine left on your shoulders, it makes me so missed, so obsessed. On that day, after the drizzle, the happy sunny days arrived. The sun after the rain, fresh and comfortable, the breeze and the muddy aroma, sent a burst of cool. The rain is clear, the warm nature picks up a bright place Marlboro Gold, giving people a sunny look. I like to use delicate words to describe the green scenery after the rain; the soft tip of the pen is stained with the coolness of the rain, bringing a refreshing breeze to the hot midsummer Newport 100S. I walked on a small road in the country to enjoy the beautiful clear sky after the rain. Inadvertently, your beauty. In the sun, you hold a bunch of crape myrtle, walk on the hustle and bustle of the country, your beauty is integrated into the sunshine. You are a plain and white woman, dignified and elegant, warm and beautiful, the sunshine of your beauty, revealing your self-confidence and elegance, through my eyes, through my heart, in the season of falling flowers. The beam of sunshine, through my eyes, swaying the tip of the embankment, and pouring down the hope of the next place, borrowing a piece of paper and then peeling off the dust on the heart, implanting a touch of green, feathering into a leaf The boat, scull the sculls of the fishermen, swaying the past. The beam of sunshine, light and gentle, through my eyes, wrapped around the eyebrows, agglutinating half a cup of tea, freezing the moment you smiled and smiled, and gained a sense of time. The beam of sunshine, gentle and beautiful, through my eyes, broke into the sunshine of a lonely city, the beauty of yours, through my eyes, directly hit my heart. "A snow, give it to you" The years are a shadowy person, in a hurry, day by day, year after year, like your feelings, go with the year, grow old with the white, gradually deepen And I can only treat you as a secret, a secret that cannot be said, open the memory of the dusty bookshelf, a yellowed old book slipping down and lying on the ground; I leaned over and picked up this book. The book of the year and month has not been seen, and the title page of the book has been stained with the old. The warm sunshine of the morning sun passed through the window sill, and fell on the gentle and delicate fingertips. The first page was turned over, and the twisted and twisted handwriting was lined up with numbers and lines. That year, today, those words are recorded in the track of time; when the years are old, people don��t know where they are, and occasionally meet the past, we can sing a beautiful melody and turn a thick book. A thick calendar, reading a piece of history that has passed away; one page and one page over the years, a layer o |
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