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Beiträge: 17

11.01.2020 03:05
?Wu Ye ��s old Antworten

?Wu Ye ��s old cotton jacket, the legendary story of Wang ��s third wife, and the beauty of Dong Yang has begun ever since. Next, she covered her whole body carefully, it was a symbol of the peasants and the countryside, or a rustic height. They fed their homes with flames and warmth, and gave the plain days a beautiful feeling. This time, let me lie in the haystack, and let the gentle winter sun sprinkle all over my body, listening to the calm breathing with my ears. The fireworks in this village started with these silent flesh? I don't know. In Dongyang, we have staggered countless times, and we wept and cried countless times. In winter in the north, we are also home in the north. Forgive me, I can't tell when the years in my hometown began, but at the same time, please remember: just like you, I also love these years full of firewood. If necessary, please let go of your deep thoughts, and just put these rolling landscapes in the open space outside the window. Quiet nights and late autumn, the River of Time remembers how many times are not peaceful, Baiyun and the sun have long gone, hiding behind the back of the years quietly preparing some words for the next season. You said, how many words of hope and tears can this pen write? And if the youth is gone, do you have any expectations and settings, please do n��t ask me. The dreamy youth and the twilight years full of memories also endure the baptism of years and the torture of conscience. Plant dreams and hopes here, and then earnestly treat the fruits we have always loved. I am honored to walk in an alley full of blue bricks and red tiles Newport Cigarettes. Like yesterday, I watched the moss passing by my ears with confidence. At this moment, let me continue to write this verse full of love and warmth, and feel the warmth in the rush of the years. Sister Now, I can't pull you to see the misty rain and mist of the north like the past, and put my sister's smile in the palm of my hand. Life continues to flow away, saying goodbye quietly as before. Those years, she must still remember. Follow the sound, the footsteps of the past are light, just shout so softly, the image in memory will sway. I gave my childhood a story. At the other end, my sister, along with a past me Carton Of Cigarettes, we follow the sun and wander, carefree. Now, through the river of time and space, I can't see my sister's beautiful face, and she, the lantern of time has traveled long ago. Tonight, the lights are swaying. I think of my sister twenty years ago. How many youths have you passed in those four seasons that have been warm all the way? The moonlight dripped from his hometown, and the oil lamp went out in slang. Do you still hold the silhouette of time in your hands? Freshmen's thoughts, hometown quiet time cup. Can't stop the emotions, always try to find ways to parasitize the fields and villages, and walk to the margins of the season. The sun can also bloom like a flower, and my hometown on the loess had my ancestors. The color * is warm and broad-minded, and you treasure it. It is not only the wandering moments. From dusk, the rain comes as scheduled, and all the skin in the hometown is instantly filled with tenderness. I rushed back from the field to look at my hometown, which was more than three years old, to see the people who lived between the earth and the sky. How many short memories are moved in the blink of an eye Online Cigarettes, like some stories that have already happened, it is twenty years in a flash. An old tree An old tree is a history that records the ups and downs in the wind and rain with green * days. People who return from wandering see the vicissitudes of the old tree and the vicissitudes of themselves. The old tree is a belief that points to the sky with integrity, while the other end of it is rooted in the earth. Under twilight *, above the earth, an old tree stands still, deep and eternal. The birds return home, enter the lair's heart's lair, and the night is wrapping the old tree at an incalculable rate. The people who stayed out in the spring set aside the heavy ding-dong and watched the manor above 100 acres for them. The white clouds drifted away, and the remaining space was enough for them to fill with thoughts and imagination. On a gentle night, the spring breeze blowing along the field again for another season. At the moment of saying goodbye, are there words of nostalgia pouring out and spreading to the vast fields? If possible, tonight, let me stay in the starry sky here, listen to the breath of the earth, listen to my heartbeat.
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