| pevxqfzhy | Date: Tuesday, 2014-10-21, 8:19 PM | Message # 1 |
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Group: Guest
| I remember that day, firecrackers awaken the sleepy village, the father of the family and relatives gathered around the hills, according to the custom of the village buried, raised a bunch of new soil, piercing pain, a long time, a long time ... So, that village became my tear ducts, wanted to write it with pen and ink, a pen is always fuzzy, hairy characters, like duckweed, can not penetrate bones, how to write well, I say, so I someday see the village is no longer my lacrimal gland, the village will be clear, as the root of my pen on the president, like the sinking Lingtou tree on safely can dive to depths. Second, the spring outingOne morning in mid-May , I opened the door and looked Nanshan , suddenly surprised , and " suddenly, such as spring night, the mountains and plains of red flowers ," not yet receded in the snowy south hillside , one after another , like a piece Ruxia fire up the sub flowers , like spring girlish smile blooming , colorful , Enchanting , shiny red mountain .
Love is not static.
yql2014
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