Spring has begun. Soft lining with three spring grasses, soft spreading with a wisp of incense!

The spirit of light is colorful, red, orange, red, green, blue and purple, which is the pride given to it by Yangchun. In March, she was refined, and the dew on the petals reflected the softness of the whole world. I shook it down and held it in my hand, dissolved it into a beautiful face between my fingers and condensed it into an immortal memory.

Remember that year's cigarettes? On the night of March, there were strong fireworks and unknown incense floating in the darkness. Your eyes are like waves, your lips are like hearts, and your intoxicating beauty and enchanting are carved into a beautiful picture in my heart. I dare not forget it. From then on, I'm sure you belong to March. March grass is your white boneless hand, and March sunshine is your shining lips. In March of that year, you were 9 years old and I was 8 years old and 9 months old.

Slight summer heat. A full frame of roses is beautiful, and it feels faint and cool in the dog days.

The wild rose is in bloom again, as beautiful and fragrant as it was then. The spot of wild rose under the fence is floating and full of sadness. Close your eyes and stare blankly. Deep in your memory, your smiling lips are sweeter than this flower. Remember the promise of that year? Bai Yutang, you are wearing a white shirt, a pair of white washed jeans and a pair of dirty white sneakers. You squint and look through long, soft eyelashes. Your clear eyes are a quiet lake. You told me that you are a rose and I am the most beautiful wild rose in the world, so we can't be apart. We will be together forever. Say that finish, look at me, so happy, so happy. Smile and show your bright white teeth shining in the sun. I vaguely smell the faint fragrance between your lips and teeth. But where is the heart that once said that it will never be separated? How could it leave me alone to enjoy the fragrance of this flower?

Great cold. The prosperity of Iraqis is thin, and the cold in March and September can give me tenderness.

Snowflakes in the air fall gracefully one after another, blooming with that peerless beauty and gentleness. That's dandruff that God forgot to wash his hair. Honey, I forgot to wash my hair, too, but why did my hair fall everywhere? White roofs, white houses, white birds quietly flew over my years, standing in the snow to pick up a piece of tragic white, the whole world is like a luxurious worship.

Remember the snowman that year? The nose and carrot you stuck in its face are as pink as your little face. You breathed a sigh of relief in your hand and covered my face. You said you were the snow girl who gave me warmth and tenderness. Missing is like this snowflake, burying me inch by inch and blurring my vision, but why can't I blur your sad face in my memory? How could you slip up when you said you would give me warmth?

In the autumn of 20 10, you quietly disappeared into my world. I think of your gentle face again and again on the edge of the magnificent desolation, and miss you * * * my spring, summer, autumn and winter. You said you were born in the spring of March, so "three" is your lucky number. You said you were stuck by my little devil when you were five years old, so I am your third generation. Now I bow my head and calculate carefully. After you left me for three years and three months, I will draw grass in spring, flowers in summer and snow in winter to miss you deeply. I wrote three spring days, three dog days and three nine days to deeply remember our friendship. Dear, turn around and say hello, when will you come back, like a monsoon crossing, like staying up all night, with fragrant memories.