Don’t ask for continuous branches, wish to become Branch protection grass

I can’t forget, there was once you; I can’t forget, there was once a meeting of me, once sincerely, a human face peach flower. In this life, there is no chance to become a branch. I hope to become a branch of grass, no regrets, and protect your life. —– Inscriptions often lean on the window, measure our distance with thoughts, and write down the lines of flowers and wind and rain, hoping to indulge with you in the most fireworks world. Friends always say: what kind of woman is it, let your words stick graceful tears. Yes! I rub you into my heart, carve you into Lotus, and protect you from wind and frost in your life in the name of father. Because I love you, my fingertips bent the end of the pen. However, they don’t understand that you are only a green lotus Buddha front, only to love a little fireworks in the world, then you have this encounter of the red dust. For you, I am just a wind and snow moon on the road clouds, but for me, I can’t get out of the painting. You are my ribs, and my whole body hurts when I move; It is my unspeakable injury, a thousand lines of tears. I love you, love a whole once. When I think about it, I feel sad and the roads are red and dusty. How many people form a branch just because of one look back, but clearly true love is just a memory. Perhaps, I have always been deeply in love and have a shallow fate. When the sea of people meets with thousands of mountains and rivers, the graceful woman like Lotus is only the mark of time in the end. I spent all my strength in exchange for only half a lifetime of memories. The heart of the falling flowers that you want to talk about and rest is gradually drifting away in the fleeting years. If we meet only in the month at that time, where is the love in the world? In front of you, I am humble to the dust, and then a flower opens, just to let you have a moment of nostalgia in the fragrance of flowers. I don’t blame you, you are absent with lovesickness in the appointed flowering period; I don’t blame you, let me have endless melancholy in the age of poetry and wine. Falling Flowers and flowing water may not be negative. We are just separated by a cloud of water. Once parted lives never parted love; Today’s coast to coast. As soon as you turn around, I bow my head, the flowers are still there, people Yimo. In the past of this period of clouds and water, it can’t be written that in the golden age, how many flowers have become old dreams and love to the end is just a person’s lamp and fire. After years, do you still remember whether you will properly collect our stories when you make a promise for your young life. On three-Life Stone, I earnestly knelt on Buddha front and made a wish: in this life, I don’t ask for continuous branches, I hope to become a branch of grass, and make you feel good all your life. Text/Wolong Zan (prose editor: dripping ink into injury) Phoenix Mountain Spring Tour

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