Keep your original intention and let us spend peaceful time quietly
Lingering thoughts, with a tender pen, cross the stream of love. His eyes stared quietly into the distance, like a clear spring that could not flow all the way thousands of miles away. The breeze blows, and the word love is hard to put down. There is a person living in my heart. Missing you is as far away as the sky and deeper than the sea. I remember you once said, accompany me to see all the surging waves of the sea, see all the vastness of the sea, see all the morning sun and afterglow, and let the sea breeze be filled with the flavor of love.
An inch of lovesickness, a page of pen and ink. Unfortunately, your smile condenses into the wind and frost of yesterday. From spring to summer, from the morning bell to the evening drum, I stand alone in the wind, letting every inch of my tender heart be wrapped in longing; let every missing inch of myself burn with infatuation. The farthest distance in the world is not life and death, but missing each other through time. Missing you is the wind, the rain, the night, and the cocoon of lovesickness.
Missing is a lonely road; Love is as beautiful as a flower, in various shapes and forms. Some of the flowers of love bloom brightly and gracefully, with long red blooms; some love blooms are so stingy and short-lived, like epiphyllum, peach blossoms, and intoxicating iris, but after all, they bloom too short, and they bloom when the wind blows. Passed away, leaving only half a wisp of cold fragrance. This cold fragrance is the long and lonely longing.
I think the flower of love should be like a lotus. As holy as plum blossoms, it can withstand the baptism and test of years of frost; the fragrance of love, I love the kind that is not strong, not too watery, long-lasting, and light. You said that our love is like a beautiful poem, revealing a different kind of fragrance deep in time. It is not so rich that it is vulgar, nor is it so indifferent that it is tasteless.
