The roses stay in midsummer, and my love blooms in the autumn wind, just to give my sweetheart an answer. The rose stayed in midsummer, and youth unfortunately came to an end. I originally wanted to write about my youth, but the world was shocked, but all that was left was dimness. When I was 17 years old, the cicadas chirped and white horses and sycamore trees appeared; when the 17-year-old boy ran frivolously through the midsummer wasteland; they were shining and sweating; they were indestructible and capable of doing anything; they walked side by side under the scorching sun; the long wind blew and weeds stretched to the sky. I like the sunset at seven o'clock in the summer evening. The clouds that are neither high nor low hang over my head and shine with orange light. The cool breeze of midsummer blows away the anxiety of the heat, and the orange dusk embraces the mint dawn! No one can stay in that summer forever, but there are always people who miss that summer... You blow my heart with the gentle summer wind, and soothe my heat with the restlessness of autumn.
Intention: The boy I like came up from the sky. He accidentally overturned the candle, but lit up the twilight in my eyes.
