这样的时节,北方已是瑶池琼羽,雪落梨花了,可我居住的这个古城依旧是暖洋洋的,没有一丝寒意。阳光的小手温柔地抚摸着,楼后的野菊花一丛丛多情地开着,整个小路都溢满了碎碎的金黄。前几日兴冲冲抱回一捧,找出一只素白净瓶灌水插好,放在茶几上,怎么看都好,房间是明艳的,连心情都星星点点次第开放起来。始终相信阳光是有翅膀的,那些金色的精灵穿过茫茫的黑夜,带着迷人透明的暖香,飞在你迷乱的梦里。它亲着你如水的长发,吻 This season, the north is the Qionghua Joan feather, snow falling pear, but I live in this ancient city is still warm, there is no trace of chill. The sun’s hand gently stroked the floor, a bouquet of wild chrysanthemums open passionately, the entire path is full of broken pieces of golden. A few days ago excitedly hold back a hand, find out a plain white bottle of water plugged in, on the coffee table, how to look good, the room is bright, and even the mood are little bit times the first open up. Always believe that the sun is winged, those golden elves through the vast night, with a charming transparent warm incense, flying in your dreams of confusion. It kisses you with long hair and water