Vegetable field prose in the rain

It's raining ... I came to the small vegetable garden downstairs with my umbrella and camera, and wanted to take some pictures of Kobanawa raindrops in the rain. I walked into a vegetable field full of weeds and rain, and listened to the ticking of rain on the umbrella. Suddenly, an unknown bird flew by, chirping and skimming the branches, leaving the mark of spring. A few withered petals crumbled in the drizzle and fell along the rain. My heart is wet, everything is wet.

This scene is like raindrops penetrating the skin, infiltrating into the heart and slowly cooling down. My feet are covered with mud and I feel a little heavy. I took some photos and left the vegetable field. I went to the entrance of the building and scooped water with a bucket to wash the mud on my shoes. I thought I could wash away the heavy shoes, but the burden in my heart has not been alleviated. I went back upstairs with my camera ... and turned on the computer. ...

Hate the rain, raindrops make people upset, no attendants, no heart to rely on. Standing at the window, staring at the distance, listening to the sound of raindrops beating on the ground under the eaves, a voice has been echoing in my ear. I kept searching in my mind, searching for a moment's fragment, as if it was just yesterday, and my memory was still so clear. I looked at this hazy world quietly, but I was hesitant at a certain moment.

The vibration of the flute and the melodious flute are pulling like rain, and the thin fog covers all the spaces, such as layers of waves, suppressing the thoughts in my heart. With the rain, it quietly churns, like a fleeting glance, but I vaguely forget where I am.

Endure the pain of fingers, fingertips like continuous drizzle, banging on the keyboard, the voice of the keyboard flies with the mood. At this time, it sounds more like seven notes beating. Finger pain can be cured, and it hurts. Can you put on a band-aid? Every raindrop outside the window is like an ear. I want to hear my painful voice. I turn off my hearing so that raindrops can't hear my keyboard writing poems.

Living in this flashy world, it is inevitable to fall into stereotypes. Life is to make fun of everyone and tell everyone's story. There are always so many helplessness and troubles left behind, and the pursuit and persistence of happiness has become a thing of the past.

I got up and walked alone in front of the window, praying silently in my heart. Rain, don't disturb my thoughts, let me stay in that beautiful moment, and let me quietly tap the wet pain in my heart with my fingertips. I am light-footed, for fear that the slightest sound will let the rain outside the window know all my worries.

Sitting in front of the computer, my heart is like a torn wound, and blood drips along this wound like raindrops ... When I met in late winter, I heard the footsteps of spring. I thought this was the beginning, a surprise and a spirit. Everything is like the wind. With the arrival of spring, with the warm spring, flowers and plants appear first, and the lotus pond, weeping willow bank, Qu Yuan cloister and shadow walk with you.

Butterfly Qi Fei, the world was so clear at that moment, and the beautiful picture of Liang Zhu was staged over and over again. White clouds are suspended in the blue sky. Look at the white clouds: it's beautiful! Looking at it, I really hope this world can stay for a beautiful moment. Good moments are always short-lived. The arrival of summer brings rain and extinguishes good expectations. Before everything could be chewed, the dream had just begun, and the raindrops slipped down the cheeks and melted in the thin skirts, before they could be wiped.

At this time, a slight cool breeze blew through my heart, and the coolness quietly blew through my heart. The cycle of footsteps does not take away the gradual aging, but the endless desolation, which is full of sadness, such as this continuous drizzle, gently dripping and slowly disappearing. Once upon a time, lovesickness continued, once upon a time, midnight fright.

Once upon a time, beautiful things were decorated with notes. Once upon a time, they were no longer close to each other and tied together. Love and hate are endless, not nothing. The bells and music in that music square flow to your fingertips. And the rain outside the window is always around my ears. ...