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The fragrance of those time

by SondJam 6 months ago in Adventure
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After the summer, autumn is justified. The sound of cicadas is a bit hoarse, and the flowers in the depths of the greenery that are holding out for summer are getting shy. The sunlight falling on the ginkgoes is like broken gold, revealing a charming and gentle light. The fine continuous wind stirred the intoxicating fragrance of cinnamon flowers that were hidden outside the window in a bright and peaceful manner.

Before autumn, when my mother talked about the robust autumn tiger, I felt the heat rolling in and out, making people drowsy. The good thing about this year's autumn is that it is early in the morning, "early autumn is cool, late autumn is hot". The dew condensed on the lotus leaves, happily rolled in the morning sun, and then wrapped in the graceful air of flowers and plants, fell into my jade teapot. At the sound of frogs in the lotus pond, take down a book and light a fire. When the pot is flooded with wisps of Zen, wait for the south wind upstairs again, brew a cup of light and fragrant tea. Drink a sip of peace of mind, sip a breath of peace. When the years are cool, the red dust is also loving. If you have the fate to drink with you, drink is the mountains and water, but also the valley of a hundred flowers. This is the moment of joy, laughing at a pair of two youngsters in the distance, playing and chasing in the green intertwined path. The time is long, and the heart is clear. Look at the peaceful old man upstairs next door, with the deep sea in his eyes and the sky in his chest, carrying a pot in front of the window to spray his begonias and moonflowers. At this moment, the air and water are the favor and gift, the mercy and forgiveness.

After the autumn, the wind also adjusted its breathing. It blew the flatness of dreams down to the plentiful lotus pond, splashing a ripple. The begonias were swept off the ground and the wildflowers began to be silent, but the mountains were still full of trembling green. I sat in the wind, guarding a secret that I did not want to be pierced, looking for a reason to slow down. Although the flowers have lost her grooming and posture, and the wind no longer has the ambiguity and bravado of a hero, the spinning of the fallen leaves is not a sigh of relief. Look, the distant mountains are still deep and long, and the light water is far and long to the sky. The clouds are flying on the water, and the water is flowing between the clouds. The dark and light base color haloed out, it is the years of ink and blue words.

It's time for a rain with autumn, like the eyelashes of clouds, and like the stars by the magpie bridge, blinking and blinking to turn the world into a beautiful painting. A growing fruit, quietly washing its body full of body fragrance, a flower also took the opportunity to drown in its own fragrant aroma. And I and autumn rain, already know each other, gave a full embrace after the official announcement of separation. Perhaps at this time, the flowers across the shore are thinking about each other rain is soft. If you have a heart to heart, you reach out your left hand and my right hand, twist a wisp of the southern wind at the bottom of the sleeve, lightly tremble and caress the Zhaozhao wilderness, close your eyes and listen to a goose's cry. Then, raise the bottle to the smoke and rain building, watching the flowers flowing by. I asked you to know that the depths of the years are like wine, the depths of the clouds and mist, the rain has been thin!

It really is autumn, when I found it, it has been deeper than I thought, and gradually some reckless. Of course not to destroy Brother Du's thatched cottage again, but a collection of thousands of hues, graffiti everywhere, embroidery everywhere. How can it be unrelated to the wind and moon? The silk scarf called red dust, it was painted to float but not indistinct, soft but not charming. How to describe it? Calm and flamboyant, antique and flamboyant, silent and high-profile, and, profound and tender. It is like a woman with clear eyes and a man with wisdom and understanding. They are the world of this season, in the shallowest stranger, to meet the deep love that can not be copied.

It is said that autumn flowers will be thankful, but in fact there are also flowers are blooming, such as heart flowers. The gardenia's elegant, jasmine's jade, gentle orchid, open is poetic, subtle and elegant gas. There is a look forward to the spirit, there is also a dark fragrance floating tease, knotted lilac-like sorrow, containing a quiet water deep in the heart. This flower, the accumulation of years of charm, does not fade waiting. The soul rests here, the face is more exquisite, the most important thing is that you can smell the depths of time, the fragrance of those who flow freely.

It turns out that this season can really feel the time passing by, just like the reeds on the shore, which cannot withstand the pursuit of a wind. But I still want to tell you how much I love this season of abundance! Even if you see my melancholy, it doesn't stop me from changing into a long dress, stepping on the sunlight that passes under the laurel tree day after day, stepping over the sorrow and joy carved by the wheel of the year, rubbing shoulders with the beauty plantain, and smiling at the boy in white. "A branch of light storage under the book window, people and flowers heart each fragrance." The flowers have fallen unperturbed, people should also be safe and sound. The best thing is that it will pass, after loving each other not sigh, all because the best are in the memory, like the wine brewed and brewed, into the luminous cup, hanging in the frame.

In fact, to this season, the year has twilight. The fragrance of the white horse passing by is slightly sad, the wind and the falling flowers are a bit distant, some thoughts are either engraved or untraceable, and finally the roadmap is lost. The golden wind and the dew, the mirror often sit in the place, chrysanthemum yellow sprinkled a ground. The past on the petals of the converted, for no reason, called people to cherish. The first thing I want to do is to go to the place where the clouds are transparent, and run to you in my heart. Under the laurel tree, we can count all the past events with you and slowly talk about our wishes for the coming year. A ray of moonlight is also gorgeous and beautiful, a cup of cappuccino is also gentle and quiet. I drank the fragrance of this season, passing through the Tang poems and Song lyrics, allowing me to plant a place after a wisp of charm will leave. The first thing you need to do is to get a new one.


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