(May end. I do not like , June .)
morning when the smoke drifting over the lake has dried pillow
expect and I have been waiting to say goodbye to degenerate into a sudden
Unfortunately, when the tears
outline into the sad memories of hyperbole metaphor PASSING Time flies
finally we are no longer for life to love wild carnival of youth across the mid-summer , however
About one day by day, brilliant
( A letter I White : And then to go in )
Who can not make my life as the only autobiographical poem
no matter how far the future is still to read a single word Have to make the sky a brilliant
explaining the definition of the white and blue clouds lay out a red carpet falling
to the future to meet our future
wonderful unfinished
No comments:
Post a Comment