Can't remember how many years, I have been silent. Year after year, standing here. Next time the wind, wet past life memories. A seasonal wind and rain, wanton invasion of my soul. Don't know, now you are still in the image of a tree, standing in the I must pass through the intersection
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Numbness of the soul, in silence, the silence.
Depletion of thinking, in the waiting, waiting for the.
Have the passion, once the romantic, the silence has been weathered into history. Once the story, once love, waiting to have precipitated into the story.
You don't know, years of circulation, I had the happy appearance, quietly hidden in the foliage of the soft places. The clear lines, I touch the well-being traces. The mottled wound, I want is love's eye. On the annual rings, I always go to today
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Don't know, when can I meet you?
Don't know, when will you see me?
But, I still wait patiently. I believe, you will from those arranged in a crisscross pattern memory, through the years numerous hills and streams, send me a tree flowers
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I devoted to watch my memory. I firmly believe that, one day, I will through the darkness of the vicissitudes of life, with a happy smile, walked into your dream.
PR
