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You're lucky

You're lucky

Ping water dependent, static good Joan



There are always some words, moist in the chest, one side brocade PA also wipe away thoughts; always has an umbrella, hiding behind a tree, quietly for you through the rainy season; there is always some people, each other there, but quietly inadvertently reminded, fan point in hand count the stars. That man, that view, the friendship, love in there, miss at night.

Distance is hazy distant, that partition the meet, will be in the new face. Forget the old people, however, that cup of tea in memory of the old, more long more mellow, even the memories are whirling sweet. Even the table aside coffee is bitter, not tea qinfang.

Rain writing brush, passion, across palm tears freezing scattered in the wind, but his body inside, with emotion; remember that time, walk together, tell the romantic vision of youth; remember the frame pledge, even if married women, also want to miss to friendship. The picture, has long, did not mark, but never forget.

Their wandering, their sky, respectively. The busy time, occasionally forget, forget to send a postcard; but when you want to cry, always want to borrow their shoulders, like a Changan jour like chatter without stop to talk; to laugh, shout will also carry a skirt like magpie. Perhaps, in the heart, they will always be that little harbor, let the shore skyline.

The White Dew, under the simple and elegant, into the depths of red dust, across a city under siege, the soles of the feet is covered with dust, also got into the wind; the broken bridge, still; the moon, still; the face, but faded memories with color. Can poke memory fences, the Wang Lun mood, still deep pools of peach.

Meet, is the edge of love, is love. Once we understand each other, to build the crescent bridge, water under the bridge without rest, song continuous bridge. As time flying, we will look back to the long bridge, walk away, will go back to my youth.

Not to forget, but deep; not to know, but is willing to accommodate; at that time, did not let me miss, but the heart but remember that friendship; the rainy season, not sent to the umbrella, but utterly routed message to my mind; that afternoon, did not send letter, but sent miss. But, I really miss.

The rearview mirror, the window, across the landscape is heavy, the figure of the past thousands on thousands of back, always inadvertently, in search of the familiar looking for wiping, wanton together; but they are not, they like me, are passing, in the red rovers, each other..

In the deep night, listen to songs, tears, even if someone pass paper towel, to help wipe the tears, but still miss the rainy season; in the light the stage, dancing, continuous applause, even praise sound over the rolling sea, but always feel sorry, not the innocent.

A silhouette of a tree, war, miss a paper. The text is tender, affective Lake shallow. Years no longer, Shaohua evanescent, each packed that beautiful, unwilling to resolve the robbery, just want to miss you bless each other, static good, joan.

Perhaps, for a long time can not meet again; perhaps, side also has a new landscape; perhaps, flowers or pity no one; but, Ping water dependent moved will precipitate in a teacup, flies the clouds, quietly waiting.
PR

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