Because of the wind, the willows are swaying because of the sun, so the rain is falling, so it is moist. Everything that seems to be simple, but reveals poetry all the time. Life is the most complicated, but it is also the easiest. As long as you understand it with your heart, you can wake up like a poem in the morning. I am at the window and watch a red sun rise from the building. Such a color, such warmth, silently rendered a cluster of clusters. The most beautiful, it is just the morning glow. One day is new and clear, there is no illusion, no material interlacing. Perhaps this is the beginning of the so-called Iraqi people for the fulfillment of the day, as is the sunshine on the water side. Jump out from that far corner and let all the light shine Cigarettes Online. It is such a beautiful poem holding a book, lazy to kneel on the wicker chair Parliament Cigarettes, feeling a little bit gentle through the gap between the leaves. The old cat in front of the door stretched out on the warm ground in the afternoon sun. The old-fashioned radio was trembling in the ear. The grandmother walked upstairs with the railing and took a half of the big red scarf. In the early autumn, I played the role of the winter. The old cat finally stretched out and walked to the feet of the grandmother, leaving only relatives and well-behaved. The so-called animals are already aware of emotions. The old man has a silky smile on his wrinkled face. Looking at my eyes is love. It is also the distant wind that the years carved out. The red leaves in September dont fly. Your heart is like stubborn bluestone. stubborn. Who will serve the old, who does not love time and years? Just coming and going in a hurry, lost in the fingers, and finally lost is such a poem of sadness and sadness. Just like the stone bricks on the ancient walls, the story and history of the years of age are laid, and it will eventually be indistinguishable, like water dissolved in water without turning around. The pages of the book were touched by the flow of the sun, and the heart was also wiped out with a touch of silence. This was not touched, but it was also moved by the chic beauty Wholesale Cigarettes. Well, life is still like a huge gear, slowly spinning, rubbing a poetic spark, shooting in this vast world, there is a blue lake in my hometown. When I was young, I always went to the lake at night. Look for a peace and quiet. Such a dark sky, there will always be a month like a white jade plate, turned out from the clear clouds, full of quiet and clear. When the moonlight is so intoxicated to cover the whole earth, the most interesting thing to look for is the poetic moon. The monks seem to have walked out of a woman from the moon, and the clothes are hanging down and the skirts are light. Dreams are as true as dreams. She walked through the night with a paper umbrella, and it was not obvious. It was made up of this day without a public life. This day is also surrounded by poetic poetry. Even if it is ordinary, how can you use the eyes to see the world, realize a poetic, and hold a poetic life. Originally, it is poetry. Poetry is life.
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