The winter night was cold and silent. The moon was just at the window.
The night of the south, in the light of the moon, a circle of long and intense cold
I am a quiet woman, the silence of this time, coinciding with my heart. There was a light passing through the branches of the moon, and I seemed to hear a low voice touching the window.
Tonight, I want to write some melodramatic words, dream outside all is the moon hui, is a person's shadow. The moon shadows are low, the mist grows thicker, the heart, also more and more soft. Out of the window, the sound of the streaming of the sound of the heart wobbled.
At this time small courtyard, very quiet, suit a person daydream, suit a person, be a person, do not need too much.
Time, the old age, like the deep silence of the night notes, old age a little vicissitudes, have an old taste, like some hundreds of years. Suddenly, I think of the small yard in love, a ginkgo tree, a porch window, a woman in the window, a cup of tea, waiting for an old love.
At this moment, I am like the woman in the play, sitting in the window of the moonlight, quietly staring.
The courtyard of the quiet, quiet atmosphere, the flow of the sound, as if the smell of lingering smell is approaching to me, a little bit, dare not say, afraid to disturb this illusion.
It was the night, the most moving moment. In the clear light, the shadow of the moon is dragging its long tail, slowly moving forward, the sound of time is very crisp, a drop of a drop, like the water of the night, wrapped in ambiguity, stained with dew...
This atmosphere is very steady, very quiet, to the heart a kind of affiliation, that is gentle in winding.
Suddenly, inexplicable move, is this breath, so familiar, so heart. In an instant, something was spinning in the corner of the eye.
I was thinking that the woman named xiaoyu in the next life is making a cup of tea every day to wait for the lover of her previous life. That night, the ginkgo tree was blown to the sound of the wind, that night, the clouds did not cover the moonlight. The wind, also lifted her xuan window, the leaves of the courtyard reflected a place of shadow, sad and dour, only to wait for the marriage of the previous world. The sound of the flute was full of pain and pain, but she did only one thing, and the tea was cold and continued.
The small yard, so quiet, the fallen leaves fall to the ground of the sound of the ear. Time moves from one finger tip to the other, the star moves, the wind runs over and the other is cold, and she remains the same.
This kind of image is so heartway, to provoke the mind to take on a layer of ambiguous, like inlay in the time of the seam, erase, wipe off.
Time has gone and everything is old. Old, everything is old, the small hospital is old, the time is old, even think a person's heart is old. The night, like a love net, the net has gone away, too melancholy. That year was little green, the flower season of that year, the love of that year, and the scenery of that year, so wrapped around the heart, tangled and tangled.
The old courtyard, like the door of the heart, was opened by a rusty key, a drain like water that could not stand in the way.
Finally all let go. Heavy emotion, thick moon, heavy heart, heavy two words really apply. The deep courtyard of this winter night, in the early days, cold to be scary, no noise, no flow, no feelings of contagion, only I alone in the quiet night, chilly and cold.
I really want to be the little jade girl.
Under the yellow light, make a cup of tea and turn over the old shadows. Wait for a person, whether come or not, in and out, all that way. The aroma of the house, that is the taste of tea, there is a person's breath, not lonely, not lonely, because there is love in the heart. Although it's very old, it's cold.
At the end of the month, I spent my time in the courtyard. I can't remember many nights of deep night, I am opposite the west window, listen to the wind from the cornice. At that time, the heart was still, quiet enough to hear the pulse of my heart, and the blood flow.
A man's night is quiet.
This time, you can listen to the time slip from my heart, you can listen to the voice of the emotional hit some parts of the body, you can hear anything, even in a trickle flow like a lotus blooming quietly, and then the dismantling your heart at the same time.