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At night, the rain is still under, like no venting during the day, like the ending of the symphony, ticking, pattering, and continuing to rain very quiet, no sound, the glass window is covered with water drops, like The integrated pearls, like scattered elves, like poetry lover tears, with a little bubble-like feelings, quietly scratched. Suspended but has a window through the window, not very clear, not uniform, just inadvertently twitching the mood, or quiet, or warm, or miss, or sigh. Rainy night, sit alone, listen to the rain through the heavens and the earth, straight down the heart, alone to miss, remember, or quiet, or snicker, the kind of moisturizing to the bottom of my heart, even under the Richard Clayderman piano The elegant melody of "Blue Love" that flows out is also difficult to compare. Thoughts are like wine, and the thoughts that are occasionally picked up are also disrupted by the rain outside the window. The trees in the courtyard are bare, but there is no vicissitudes of baldness. Instead, they are rejuvenated. As early as the green has explored the head, breathing the long-lost air, looking up to this long-awaited world. The whole tree stood alone, but it was a hundred times more spirited. The new green solitude danced gracefully. The curve was elegant and the rhythm came from the occasional passing sound. It seemed to be chaotic, but it was also chaotic, and it was charming and not cheesy. It is as elegant as a lover's arm walking across the red carpet. The grass under the tree is staggered, but it is cute, and occasionally there are a few leaves dotted around it. It is also a little old in the water, and there is no trace. Suddenly, the rain accelerated his footsteps, like the naughty and playful child, saw his house, and changed from slow to trot. A stream of moisture began to appear outside the window, and the smoke was so smoky that it was too thick to be seen. The overflowing water rushed into the air. Although the momentum was not very strong, it had a cold taste. The first contact with the night rain was in Yu Qiuyu��s "Night Rain Poetry": "The dim light illuminates the dense rain feet, the glass windows are cold and cold, and the heat that you get out of is a fog. You can see very few things. But it seems to be able to look far away." "There is nothing in the world that will interfere with the sound of the freedom of the wind. You use the warm fingers to cut the mist on the window and see the numerous crystal raindrops on the outer layer of the window Marlboro Red. The fog is coming up again, you still use your fingers to draw, rowing and rowing, and finally draw the name you missed. This is the phrase "scratch and stroke Carton Of Cigarettes, finally draws the name you miss", evokes How many people's thoughts, how many people's moods have been shaken. The night rain has deprived people of their vitality, so the imagination in the night rain is particularly sensitive and fearful. This kind of fear is mixed with a certain sense of security, and it is condensed into the self-satisfaction and hope of the warmth of the small world. I sit alone, master my own rhythm, appreciate my own scenery, and miss my own people Wholesale Cigarettes. It seems that the glitz of the world, the smug fall, the night rain has faded, a few more quiet, a few more indifferent just inadvertently think of the charm of your outflow, people can not bear to leave. Forgive me for not being able to tell your beauty, because I am far away, and I don��t have time to see how you smile. Three years, you have also strained, matured, and I don��t know much about you, but you don��t know. Just like blaming, noisy, capricious, I don't care, just sitting quietly. It is a pity that I have already left, and I cannot take you into my arms. On this lonely rainy night, it��s like this. I will draw your appearance and review from time to time. My dear.
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