Seven thousand word lyrical prose is recommended

"**A".

Tagore. If I turn into a golden flower, for fun, grow on the tall branches of a tree and grin and swing the new leaves in the air to dance, Mom, you know what? If you cry: child.

It's only 100 words, so that's so much.

(Time) is Xi Murong's, not Zhang Xiaofeng.

The prose I wrote was so dark and so sad that the average person would have a heartache when they read it, and I just found a "gay" and my mood has improved, and I can't write it for the time being....Laughs....Sorry....

From Baicao Garden to Sanwei Library, Lu Xun's.

Delicate woman is a book, if you read her, must be rich in heart, sure full, delicate woman is a budding flower, bathed in the sun and rain, fresh themselves, fragrant others, delicate women, is a beautiful landscape, they inject tenderness into life, always in the plain, highlighting the charm of women.

Rulan's women must be elegant, always exude a faint fragrance, they like to read, exude the fragrance of books, that innate temperament, is a long-term accumulation of cultivation, they pay attention to details, just the right makeup, clean and elegant clothes, so that you can not see any traces of modification.

They are tranquil and gentle, as clear and elegant as water, giving people a harmonious beauty, they are gentle and introverted, show off their wisdom, and have the ability of professional women, but they are not strong; has the gentleness of a little woman, but is not too dependent, as Bai Luomei said, the most beautiful woman should have a kind of quiet and elegance in the world. No matter when, no matter what kind of mood, she can calm you and make you feel at ease.

Compared with the warm woman, there is also a kind of jade woman, the kind of moisturizing on the body, although there is a feeling of not eating the fireworks in the world, but it is cool and transparent, they are like plum blossoms that bloom in the snow, with a pure beauty of clearing the answer and destroying the code. The newcomer is as beautiful as jade, the woman in my heart is like jade, she is shy and quiet, natural and simple, her eyebrows are icy and clear, and she has the heart and perfection that makes people fall in love at first sight

The rhyme of the autumn night.

Blowing a slight cool breeze, under the soft light of the silver-white jade plate moon, a voice whispered to me: It's autumn.

Slightly cool, draped in a white veil as soft as moonlight, flying in the dark blue sky like agate leaves, safely falling on my hands, I lowered my head, looking at this small leaf, although a little yellow, but still born so cute, or let you return to the roots! I blew lightly and it flew away again.

I raised my head again, the moon was more beautiful, half a silver-white disk hung in the sky, the vast dome flickered a few points of drifting, I don't know if it was the stars in the sky, or the lamps in the world. Nearby, the whispers of the voices of the people next door, occasionally mixed with the sound of the wind blowing the leaves, and the remnants of the birds.

When the aftermath of the hot summer footsteps has not yet dissipated, in the season, the messenger of autumn has quietly descended on the world. The moment the two goddesses of the seasons passed each other, nature attributed his spirit and his pride to the wind. After that, as the weather cools down, people are presented with a page of autumn scenery.

I walked out into the quiet little square, where the grass and trees were silent, but I seemed to hear them whispering again. What are you talking about? Presumably it's a dissatisfaction with the autumn god.

An airplane flew overhead, breaking the beautiful silence. The moon went crazy, and the grass and trees went crazy. The wind is not so soft, like a dragon roaring, a dragon singing.

The darkness faltered, and the stars and moon were obscured by a sprite and mischievous cloud, and soon the clouds drifted away with great reluctance. Yue'er smiled, the light was brighter, and the moment the clouds drifted away, the earth was gradually illuminated by silver light, as if after the darkness receded, she saw hope again.

The light came back, and a touch of warmth poured into my heart.

The rain was still falling in a fine and dense manner, and the tears had long since dried up. Once met in the rain, you stretched out your warm hands and pulled me under your umbrella. Seeing your kind smile, my eyes flashed with shyness.

Without words, quietly listen to the rhythm of the raindrops hitting the umbrella. Since then, I am no longer afraid of rainy days, and since then I have been obsessed with walking in the rain. We walked into the autumn with the sunset, and we walked through the autumn with the fallen leaves.

The whispers of the moon before the flowers, the hugs of the landslides, the tears of the drizzle, and the vows of the sea and the mountains all happened in this season.

Now, my lonely figure stands on the pedestrian bridge in the middle of the city street, patiently waiting for the clouds to pass by in the sky, entrusting my thoughts of you to it. There was no one to watch the sunset with me at dusk, and no one to listen to the sound of raindrops hitting umbrellas in the drizzle. I walked in a distant land with heavy steps, often fantasizing that your voice would suddenly sound beside me, and that your umbrella would appear again on a rainy day.

However, to this day, you still don't appear in front of my eyes.

The tide rises and falls, the flowers bloom and fall, the years are passing, time is flowing, and I have never stopped missing you. Watching the flowing clouds gradually disperse, watching the wind gradually go away, trembling stretched out his hands, lightly touched the flowing clouds and the soft wind, and stored my distant thoughts about you.

Tell me, can you feel how much I miss you?