Warm memories drifting away in spring

Spring came quietly, and the warm sunshine was like its servant, following behind him, sweeping the footprints of the winter with warm hands. On the wilderness, there was a pleasant scene of singing and dancing, and the spring was full of earth. People can finally get rid of the bondage of winter, fly their dreams in the fields, let the dreams fly freely in the bright spring, and melt in the blue sky with white clouds. Become a beautiful scenery in spring. Let the impetuous heart bathe quietly in the spring breeze, let the warm wind gently touch the atrium, like a wisp of clear spring trickling through the heart, filtering out all selfish thoughts, and the heart is as calm as a pool of lake water, slowly rising slightly drunk, like a tired traveller, finally returned to his hometown home, put down all the burdens, heart can have a good rest. However, the intoxicating beauty and familiar atmosphere. I can’t help reminding people of those warm memories that have gone like colorful clouds in spring. I remember that spring is the most beautiful season when I was young. From the green grass, wild flowers bloom by themselves, and the grass is filled with strong fragrance. Colorful butterflies, like dragonflies and water, are busy on the stamens. Lonely flowers are like seeing intimate lovers, all of whom are delighted. After school, this is the paradise for my friends and me. Running wildly in the grass, catching beautiful butterflies. Tired of playing, lying quietly on the grass, listening to birds and bees singing softly. Or pick a few wild flowers in your hands, put them under your nose, and gently Dream of Spring in the thick fragrance of flowers. After the setting sun smeared the resplendent and glorious surroundings, he picked up his schoolbag and went home reluctantly. In my mother’s complaint, I had dinner hurriedly. Then he slipped into his own cabin, took out the flowers in the book and thought about the mind that only the moon could understand. Ren Moonlight crept all over the desk secretly, just like waking up in a dream, thinking of the homework not done, she finished her work for a while. The bright moonlight outside the window was flowing like silver. The round smiling face of the Moon, against the window glass, seems to be gently calling. My heart is like a disturbed lake water. In the ripples of light, my dream is gone. In spring, the cute little rabbit also regained its exquisite and lively appearance. My mother told him to gouge out the grass for it every day. I like to pull rabbit grass most and feel free. I don’t want to be summoned by my mother at home to do housework that I hate. A man took a small shovel and carried a small basket, and went to the far field to find the milk pulp grass that rabbits like most. Blue sky, white clouds fluttering, flying freely. Just like this moment, my happy heart is flying in the wilderness. Birds twitched around me as if they were welcoming me. Beside the canal with luxuriant green grass, the lush and dense reeds look like a green wall guarding the canal water. The breeze blew, the reeds rustled, as if whispering gently, warm and touching. I gouged out a basket full of milk pulp grass, put down the basket and found the most beautiful flowers among the wild flowers all over the ground. I took a lot of hands and danced happily. I was anxious to go back and share it with my friends. The spring breeze fondled on my face, and my red face was as delicate as the flowers in my hands. In the fragrance of flowers, my heart gradually got drunk. I didn’t rush back until my mother’s familiar call was sent to my ears by the spring breeze. At dusk, a touch of red glow dyed the western sky red, and the smoke of the kitchen curling around the sky of the village. My mother’s busiest time also came. After finishing dinner, she was busy cooking pig food. I helped wash the cut pig grass with clean water, and my mother also burnt the firewood in the hearth. I saw her sitting a big pot on the stove. With the sound of the well-paced air box, the flame danced rhythmically, and the water in the pot gradually creaked. My mother’s red face was so charming. My mother’s shallow smiling face also became my most beautiful memory in spring. The spring breeze blows every year, awakening my memory. For example, my close partner came here gently and recalled those warm and warm memories together in the gathering time and time again. Now, many years have passed, and every spring when the spring breeze warms me, looking at all the familiar things, the laughter of childhood will emerge in front of my eyes, my tired heart, it seemed that I had found a pure habitat, and those warm memories drifting away in spring suddenly became more and more precious. It was like a stream of warm current, which warmed my heart all the time. My mother’s deep love also warms my spring one after another. Like (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) change the way to continue to stay with this city I went out at 6 o’clock in the morning and came back at almost 8 o’clock in the evening. From beginning to end, I only welcomed myself with silence; Since I went to college, on weekends… [Original essay] string words Since winter, the sky is dry and the snow is misty. The whole earth is desolate and empty. Whether your mood is like a year, or… Forever military dream Forever military Dream (Ma Xiaochun, Kangle county, Gansu province) memories are like meteors, passing through the unmarked and blurred eyes, and the outline gradually… Spring rain I like spring rain like everything on the Earth. Just after the new year, the sky began to rain. I really like the spring in Jiangnan… Plucked the snowflakes of Dreams (modified) Near the new year, the first snow fell. I was surprised to read a long scroll in the morning, the white one is snow, and the gray one is tree… Self The fashion is transient, and the style is permanent. Things that can shine on others may not be put here. In…

Writing is a disease

When summer flowers are still blooming recklessly in the sunshine, when winter snow is still drifting in the cold. Alone, bathing in the sunshine or snow, sitting in front of the computer and writing everything I imagined. A cup of hot tea was quietly steaming beside the computer. The peace in the Cup reflected all the writing postures. This kind of writing brought me many things that could not be touched by reality, it describes a fierce love, from being happy to smiling, and from leaving to tears. All those writings bring me are like the Four Seasons that go round and round, making me feel all the subtle changes. Writing is a kind of disease. When people sleep soundly in the middle of the night and snore lightly, when they are empty to the moon, they write all the beauty that belongs to themselves or all the sufferings that they want to experience. Guo Jingming said that writers are depressed because they are thinking about how happy or sad their roles are every day. Su Tong said that few people really wanted to write something and persevered. I said it is very easy to write something. When I really want to write something that has gone through several years of spring, summer, autumn and winter, writing becomes a disease. A truly happy person will not write, because he will die of happiness every day, and there is no time to express everything he feels with words, except my dear, I love you, the weather is good today, and this rose is so beautiful. I won’t say anything else. People who are really depressed can’t write, because those melancholy bring him silence or giggle, because that is mental illness. The real writer is like a sub-healthy person. When the reason and depression are criticized for countless times, they decide to write. The combination of seemingly healthy and unhealthy may become a masterpiece. Some people say that genius and madman are only one step away. Writing is only half a step away from mental illness. Of course, I won’t be energetic enough to hit my face, but the pressure that the spirit in my mind will bring to myself is not what others imagine. Writing is a kind of disease, even if there is no sadness, it will flow backwards into a river. Writing is a kind of disease. Even if there is no happiness, you will cry happily. Writing is a disease that I struggle for myself in the future. Like (prose editor: prose online) the snow in spring Spring elimination snow, multi-the yao nian, unspoken. Reading from afar, it is just above that snowfield. The snow is really beautiful, after all it is spring… Waiting Waiting is a kind of persistence, sticking to a certain belief and never giving up. Maybe because of a certain commitment, or because of a certain… Be good at listening to different voices and opinions On October 6th, I published a travel essay: “beautiful autumn scenery”, which was obtained by many literary websites… Read The Bridges of Madison County “When the white moth spreads its wings, you can come to me at any time”. I think, if I am a man, be accepted… From today on, I want to be happy I read “the biography of Hulan River” long time ago, and I remember that I was really in a heavy mood for a long time. Which characters caused me… Sick time I sneezed one after another these days. I said someone was reading me and others said I was sick. Finally, the doctor also said I was…