I wake from a dream at dawn, warmed by quilt and bedding.
Flecks of candlelight glow, and the wind scatters my dreams.
Back then, all I could do was gaze across mountain after mountain.
Though you were close enough to touch, the jade flute still sounded cold.
Few take pleasure in dressing up.
Standing at dusk, my temples have turned white.
The rosy clouds are hard to bear, just as they were in days gone by.
Wild geese scatter across the sky. Returning, I remember the splendor of the past.
“Little Mount Zhong: Remembering Those Days”
The flower-brushing hand is now in vain. So sad.
A great article that I came across accidentally, the style is very fresh.
A fairy song, quietly and silently. The spring leaves the butterfly and flutters into the heart. The jade flute music cannot be heard, Xian'e is nostalgic for the old world. The sun is directly south, and the graceful dance frightens spring dreams. In short supply, there is no one to share. " It's really beautiful. I don't appreciate poetry, but I think it's very good. It fits the atmosphere of the article and it's very happy. It's my favorite Thirteen.
I was looking at your hollyhock, but it turned out to be locked. It hasn't been updated for hundreds of years So it turned out to be about time travel? Have no choice! And I just wrote a little bit, I feel dizzy Could it be that the old woman traveled back in time to ancient times?