was born in a small village in the western Sichuan Plain. Although many childhood impressions have been forgotten, I can't forget the pond next to the bamboo forest. There are several sorghum and bamboo beside the pool. There are many red fish and crabs in the pond. The father always weaves many horrible stories, and the mother weaves many beautiful legends until the hands of the books lead me into the hall of knowledge. After school, one person always stays in the pond and remembers those beautiful ones. Legends and stories; feeling the world is weird, there are countless new things, and later I feel that the nephews Wholesale Cigarettes
, the ponds, and the elves in the pond are simply treasures of the world. The stories and legends there seem to wrap the roots of my life. It is the source of my feelings, and my poetry comes from it. I take pride in all my life. I have a high school and a high school in primary school. So I sing and praise the life of agitation and the health of love. The dream of the pond was moved by the waves. Because of my arrival, there are unpredictable changes in the small villages. The smoke of the smoke drags out the poetry of the dawn, the white flowers flying wildly, and the words are as clear as my poems. If you are fascinated, if my poetry can touch you, if my praise goes into the legend of the flower because of love, the dream of the pond, then please stop for me and tears for you, for love, I will Give time like poetry and the loyalty of this heart, even life. This vow will reverberate in this life Newport Cigarettes Coupons
, and it will be in your present moments Marlboro Lights
. You can appreciate the scent of it. Although a crab in a childish pond was caught by me and died, it was many years ago. Maybe it��s because it��s too painful to clamp my little hand. In short, the crab was suspended by me for seven days and seven nights. But then I was still afraid of crabs, and it was impossible to fish in the pool. Just look at the fish, as if those legends and stories are like me coming, so there are countless delusions in my heart, so I have the poetry of my middle school, innocent but passionate, childish but not tolerant . But the impression of the crab is always entangled with me. If you suddenly meet you one day, and you disappear without a trace, I really know that the pain of the body is so painful and refractory. The life like a mirror begins to spread over the pond. The fish is sleeping, the crab is hiding behind the autumn leaves, and the poetry is clamped. The small stone in the water passes through its melancholy like the spring in the rain. It can't help but sneak into your cold heart. I can't imagine the shabby. How to face your physical and mental exhaustion and your parents in the small seat next to the pool, is the time to visit relatives every year. At that time, the flowers have already floated up. Although there are only a few plants, they are still full of aroma, and the crabs at that time are The cold winter is deep into the cave, maybe I am afraid that I will grow up and mature, and I will not look forward to it. But at this time, my heart is always not a taste, I always hope that the emergence of crabs, even if I meet my inadvertent tears. I think, without the bullying of the crab and your torture, I will not go through the rough roads to sing the song, and my poetry will dry up. Therefore, I always want to catch fish, and I sincerely wait for the crab to once again be the unforgettable clamp. Please let the original cool flowers fall in tears in October. It tries to match the deep pen and ink to paint the legends and stories in the pond for the distant parents. I am so pleased and my wandering heart, the swing of September will find the quiet homeland poetry in the pond is beautiful, the first page is like the beautiful legends and stories of the pond, then the tuition needs, then Because of your arrival, my sorrow, and then it is the urging of the soul, the singing of the heart, to record the people who come and go to the days of grievances, including those who touched my life, to give me the perfection. Sky, how to cheer, how to pain, and give tea some spiritual food after dinner. Full of hope, this love is dancing, young people sneak into silence, try to pick up red beans, miss you believe, my poetry will be wider and wider, meaningful wife and innocent song as a witness, I enjoy Poetic happiness, even the pain of accidental gains, will become the wealth of my life writing; this home makes me understand that I don't have to be a poet and I don't want to be a poet. Life is a poem. Both living and passing are poems. They are poets, and survival and transformation are poetry. They will erupt at any time after silence. I will break out in the pain of transparent words, but I will see your hand in comfort and touch the piano of my poetry, playing the smile of our moon.
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