Fall season of petals

Time passed like silk, and loneliness was hidden in the creases of paper planes. Days flow on the gravel of memory, holding the humid time, afraid that the years will dry, picking up the falling petals, under the soft green flowers and shadows is the thorough rough years. The inscription is gradually frozen in the mind of wandering constellation, and the scene is sentimental in the residual fragrance of years and plaster. The misty heart lake is full of waves and waves, and the past as thin as cicada wings is falling day after day, dancing lightly down on the memory gravel. Walking through the country paths, the village head is big in that remote hill. In the fifth grade of primary school, I dropped out of school with a partner. My parents hoped that we could herd cattle and cut firewood together. The pure and gentle thought was also free in this way, without the tone of the teacher’s coarse scolding and blaming, without the gray and stagnant eyes of parents. We play in the verdant high and cool mountain everyday, and like climbing down the mountain stones to pick the white and fragrant wild lily in the deep grass. The stream on the mountain is always full of ginger flowers, and the mountain is full of that kind of smell, sometimes trance, sometimes clear, but sadness and depression are hidden in the heart. At that time, we were like clouds wandering in the sky carrying Happy Dreams. I am used to haunting the lonely gray air with songs, and I like to smooth the ups and downs of tiny marks with smiles. Glancing at the dimly longing and looking up gently in the glancing eyes, tears wet the dim heart and lonely and free days. In autumn, I watched the Camellia scattered in the corner of the campus. The snow-white petals are as beautiful as lilies and ginger flowers on the mountain, which are the tremors of time and the reappearance of the Pavilion of time. When I returned to school, I always told myself that I would not give up studying any more. What made me sad for no reason was to redouble my efforts. Second, wipe the tears that have faded my face, thinking of the young years that I wasted, I used my hard work to retrieve the hurried time. My parents were very upset when I was in high school. Other people’s daughter worked to earn money, and I was still studying. The estrangement between two generations, the hidden pain and the sadness and self-abasement painted in the corner of eyes. Quietly turn pages to the yellowed diary in the drawer, write a beautiful life with words, and make the years look like youth. The joys and sorrows of yesterday will not come back for me. I will hesitate in the ups and downs, and look for hope in the tidal night. Use time to write down pale and falling. In the first year of senior high school, the scores were always in the top. In senior three, Cheng Tu’s confusion made me float on the thin ice with astigmatism. Tired of the reciprocating Road, the trembling lotus leaf is not my enthusiasm for waiting, and the falling lotus petals are my withered heart. Before the college entrance examination, I didn’t attend classes any more and ran to the river with my deskmate every day in a daze. The sky is always so blue, and the green vegetation and flowers are red, implying that smiles and sadness are hidden deep in the approach of the college entrance examination. We exclaimed the hazy twilight, and the time was short, listening to the swaying wind leaves of the bamboo forest. After the college entrance examination, we live in our memory. Hope in the tears of summer. The deep and shallow lotus leaves flying in the wind are covered with pink petals. Fish in the pond, flowers in the water, all petals fall in the memory of seasons. The three rails are carved in the steps of gradually moving away. From the south to the north, the swaying years of light Moon and yellow sand can’t be seen, and there is no dark voice in my ears anymore, wandering in the university time. The sudden military uniform and sinking were dusty in the chaotic sand last night, and the dream was waiting in the harvest season. The beautiful campus flowers are in full bloom, and I appreciate the rich and gentle flower clusters beside the flower stems. They bloom among the green leaves. What has never been forgotten is the Gardenia, the pure and tiny flowers are stretching round and clean. When the smile against the wind is no longer fragrant, when the flowers fade and fade yesterday. The fragrance of petals left in memory is sparse on the gravel, the flower season can be arranged for a short time, and the memory can extend to infinity. Fourth, on the road full of snow and snow, at the moment of coma, the wind and frost haven’t been eroded, the winter dust hasn’t been scattered, and the green season is far away from me. Mei and I agreed to spend the winter vacation in Beijing. It was the first time that we stepped onto the social stage. Working in wine, since I choose service industry, I want to achieve humanistic service attitude. The sunshine keeps silent, and we are pressed at the bottom. The taste of spring is like smoke dipped in drowning. In lonely days, spring breeze will blow across the eaves. After walking a long way, your feet are covered with blood, which is the bitter bile flowing out of youth and the sad sigh that Gesanghua splashes red blood. Seeing all kinds of people, the green with heart and spirit raises the steps of the day. Snowflakes reveal the lonely light, and the pleated life crosses the hair tips of countless people. Clouds accumulate in the heart, and raindrops drop in the heart. The fleeting years in the dusk without panic, the melodious and thin figure of snowflakes outside the window, and the lamp in the room shining on the heart wandering and sleeping alone in the north. Hope is burning in the frustration, feelings are still there, and the gradually tightened wind reveals warm blessings. We Mercedes-Benz left a long winter and flawless memory in the years. Five pictures of warm wind blowing through, vast plain, desert and long sky, and the broken mountains and rivers with eyes raised are already history. We murmured in the dusk of early spring, and the quiet campus was full of spring. What glides is the birds of self-abasement, and what flies high is the dream of youth with wings. Flowers fell, petals sank life, I no longer lingered, a stack of petals of dreams hid that smile. Six in the dark blue tears page by page, my sadness is fading. I bound it into the pages of my memory at the dawn of falling petals in a season. When it withered, it was no longer, and what reappeared were only the vicissitudes of sun and fleeting years. Falling in the season, the petals on the memory gravel shine with silver dew forever. Like (prose editor: prose online) 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. 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