Looking for touching prose, touching prose poems?

Ancient Han Yu's "Sacrifice to the Twelve Lang Wen".

Today, Lin Haiying's "Daddy's Flowers Have Fallen".

Not much contact outside, hehe, hope it works for you.

Now. The Unlocked Door

The most acacia of ancient things

Touching prose poem "Falling Leaves":

Spring. Thou stretch out thy tender green buds;

In summer, you bloom with green flowers;

In autumn, you have lost your yellow leaves.

I will accompany you all your life.

But you left me alone with the hardest winter.

Every day, I am accustomed to sitting in front of the window, with the softness of my heart, stringing the words into prayer beads, writing on the plain notes of the years, those bright or sad, are the imprints of my soul, I don't want to add too much embellishment, and I don't want anyone to be able to read it, just to look back many years later, I can still feel it, and it is beautiful.

The days of interdependence with the text are so tranquil and quiet and beautiful, I can follow the footsteps of the words, dialogue with the ancients, and talk to the present people about Zen. I can be in the fragrance of words, go to Qinhuai to shake, go to the desert to find eagles, ten miles of long pavilion plug outside the song, Bashu night to see the flow of fireflies, I can tell the heart, lightly say the sorrow, borrow the wind to invite the moon, deep description remember, I can use words to write the old time, in the reincarnation of the season, enjoy my joys and sorrows, in this life, I am fortunate to be able to guard a pear blossom like snow heart, in the eight hundred miles of smoke of the text, with the touch to spread a warm and moist, in the years in the water tassel of the faint feelings, shallow, deep love.

Because I love you. I learned to give up.

When you no longer love me, when loving you has become a burden to you, when loving each other has become a pain, then I choose to give up.

I gave up on you because I loved you. Because I love you, I don't want to see you unhappy; Because I love you, I don't want to see you endure the inner struggle; Because I love you, I don't want to see your reluctant smile; Because I love you, I am willing to let you go.

When love is a thing of the past, why bother to pursue it? Forcing will not get happiness, forcing can only widen the rift between you and me, and can only deepen the pain of you and me. If you really want to go, I have no words but to let you go.

I used to think you were a kite, I held that string in my hand, no matter where you fly, I ended up being your belonging. Now I finally understand that in fact, if I love you, I shouldn't bind you.

When is the spring flower and autumn moon, and how much do you know about the past? "The past is like the wind, it's better to let it go with the wind. When everything is empty, only memories accompany me. Time can dilute everything, including the heart I love you.

I don't want you to see my tears, because I'm afraid you'll be soft-hearted, but you won't be happy. Because I love you, I won't force it with tears, so I let you go. Your heart is gone, why should I leave your people?

I aspire to last forever, but if it's just a luxury, then I might as well just have it. Once had your love, that's enough. Because there is a love, which is called renunciation.

Giving up is not selfless giving. Giving up on you is not only a love for you, but also a care for myself. I am sad to give up on you, but I will not regret it.

You are made to disappear from my life because "long pain is better than short pain". When I'm old and dying, I still don't regret it. Because I once loved you.

Because I love you, I want you to be happy.

It has been said that there will be no eternal love in this world. Between you and me, if even short-term love can't exist, it's better to let go of each other. If you love you, you will be allowed to pursue your happiness. As long as you are happy, I will be happy.

Because of everything about you, I care.

If you were to leave me, I wouldn't blame you, only myself, and I would love you too much. Maybe it's my excessive spoiling that makes you accustomed to calm, maybe it's my excessive indulgence that makes you irresponsible, maybe it's my excessive love and pity that makes you stressed, maybe it's love for her beautiful face that makes you lose your way. It's only to blame you and me.

When you want to leave, please leave me alone, you just tell me that you don't love me anymore and you have to go. I will let you go, and I will not beg you to stay, even if I hear the sound of my own heart breaking. When you're gone, don't look back.

Turning back is a mistake, and turning back is an injustice to you and me. If you go, don't regret it.

Because I love you, I should let you go.

Because I know that there is a kind of love called giving up, and that is the deepest love for you.

This is the benevolent and the wise. Touching is a personal matter, and you can't judge the most.

Liang Xiaosheng's "Father" I like it very much.

A middle-aged woman writes a letter to a publishing house to express her love for a newly published book of poetry. It was a collection of poems by a ** family who had just become famous.

The publisher took advantage of his ** trend to find his early poems and push them into the market with variations.

In the letter, the woman wrote: "Thank you for your poems, which make me feel like I have returned to the age of youth. Your love poems make me regret that I didn't love passionately once. ”

In this era, there are still people who write a letter by hand to express their love for a writer, and the staff of the publishing house are a little surprised.

When the ** family opened the letter with the same accident, a smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.

He tucked the letter into an old journal full of lines of poetry.

That night, the ** family had insomnia. Several times, he came to the desk, picked up the pen but hesitated and slowly put it down.

He wanted to send a letter back to the woman, but he didn't. He remained awake until the light of day.

Finally, he took out the woman's letter and wrote in the margin of the last page: "You will never know that those poems were written for you." ”

He recognized the familiar handwriting from the moment he wrote the letter, and the signature at the end made him even more confused.

When a woman reads a poem, she will be moved, she will cry, and she will remember her youth like a flower, but she will not know that silent affection.

In fact, she never knew about the ** family, and she hadn't even heard of his name, and that year, he was just an unknown boy in the next class.