Have ten days, not into my diary.
Day trivial things complicated, and bit by bit the mood, always wear a number of helpless, want to tap the keyboard, not any of the writing of the time. Therefore, some moment of inspiration burst, not capture, it hurried away.
But still misses the post, I always wanted to adhere to the write down, record a woman's life has expired doubt age, emotional and spiritual.
Every day spent in a hurry, work, housework and child education, reading, writing, full and busy day. I did not slack off, if I was twenty or thirty years, there are a lot of time to be squandered, but I can not relax the pace of progress. I adhere to the one attached.
Time and tide wait for no man, I can only sigh in the front row. I hope after the four-year-old rich and meaningful life.
Still feel the time off fast, the day before the river is still searching Liu Ya, today is the rise of willow long. Turning around, red peach, white pear. Time too thin, too short ring, one hand, it seems to touch the distance yet so far away.
Red Dust still, still life. One year, but each year, but I can not old people. Have changed everything off, it intends to tears the first stream. How much emotion and frustration of life ah!
Just as his head hair on the temples of old snow in the dusk, stand the autumn wind, looking at the Various Artists, leaves floating, watching the sun go down inch by inch in, but do nothing.
Before the half, missed a lot of valuable time, so I had to do time after four-year-old owner, desperately reading and writing. It is said that four-year-old school has been late, I beg to differ. But when you see the 96-year-old Yang Jiang began to write "the Edge of Life", I suddenly burst into tears.
I believe that: as long as the immortality of the soul, as long as our faith, we will always have lilies in front of the fragrance.
没有评论:
发表评论