Help me think of a love poem, find a love poem, help me

Give it to the ice--

I like to open the book in my heart in the dead of night, read the story of Bin and Bing and meet you, how sweet and memorable.

Inscription. The night, ** sounded, sad tunes, long memories.

Lying on the desk, typing the text. It was very hot, and I was dressed in a single outfit.

A moth flies around the lamp, the gardenia blooms, the plane tree is green, the fragrance is fragrant thinking of your pure appearance, I smiled, longing to hold hands, walking in the mountains and forests, the slight forest breeze.

A fallen leaf, a falling flower rolling.

You're okay, do you know my sweetness?

As night falls, the sun sets, and a crescent moon hangs in the sky.

I said ice, ice, ice...

A small boat is flooded with moonlight, and scattered bamboo poles, one by one.

The lotus seeds planted will blow your skirt with the wind in the coming year.

Put the lotus flowers that are getting redder and redder into my diary

The sky is blue, the water is green, and everything seems to be waiting for the story of the two bins (ice).

Hope you give points.

Chen Bingchun: I love you.

Changsha Chen Taishou, red hand ice wrist lotus.

Elegant drink, pure and harmonious, county government, what do I have.

I also love my house, and I smoke both sides of you.

Remotely know the three paths, and wear the Son of Heaven Saint.

The old garden is long in the eyes, and it is slightly doubtful that the earth's veins are broken.

The gentleman has forgotten himself for a long time, and Lin Wei has always lived in the industry.

Feihua doesn't know how late, and the South Star becomes a big fire.

Listening to the Autumn Rain: Singing on the Moon (group of poems).

1) When the needle of the Mid-Autumn Festival climbs above the top point.

I stood bravely above the moon.

I saw the reflection of thousands of years of time.

There are also tearful emotions that come from the vicissitudes of life.

2) No one can get out of the arc with love as the center.

Even at the ends of the earth, they also raised their glasses and sighed at this time.

Despite the wind and rain, the hands trembled slightly.

The wine glass drinking alone under the moon also flashed with a faint longing.

3) How many wishes were planted in the boudoir of the pavilion.

In the alley, you can still see the oil-paper umbrella in the rain.

Tang poems and Song lyrics wafting in the breeze.

Blowing away the quiet mind a few layers of waves.

4) What kind of emotions make me sing in the cold.

The song travels through the millennium of the collection of literary gods and ink writers.

Let the old things reopen the window of your heart.

The old trees in the moonlight record the changes of the sea.

5) I stand firmly above the moon.

lest my singing suddenly fall to the dust.

Let the melancholy notes go away with the song.

There are psalms in the old music that I can't finish singing.

A flowering tree.

How to make you meet me.

In my most beautiful moments.

For this, I have been praying before the Buddha for 500 years.

Ask him to make a mortal relationship for us.

The Buddha then turned me into a tree.

Grow by the side of the road that you must pass.

Flowers bloom discreetly in the sun.

The flowers are the hope of my past life.

When you approach. Please listen carefully.

That trembling leaf.

It's the enthusiasm I was waiting for.

And when you finally walk through in defiance.

Falling to the ground behind you.

Friend, that's not petals.

That's my withered heart.

I love you when I can't see you.

I want to say this most of all.

Met you. I dare not say that.

I'm afraid I'll die as soon as I say that.

I'm not afraid of death. I'm afraid I'm dead.

No one loves you more than I do.