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 We lost a snow, or we - Eine neue Antwort erstellen Ihre Schreibrechte

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 We lost a snow, or we

We lost a snow, or we woke up to open the curtains in our childhood, and found that the earth was once again covered with silver. The snow flakes like the catkins kept flying in the air. The trees outside the window were covered with snow and branches. The tip of the head is covered with small ice beads, which are particularly beautiful as the breeze sways. Looking at the snow outside, I remembered when I was a child, when I was a child, I was the happiest when I was snowing. I could fight, make a snowman, even if I just ran in the snow, listening to the sound of snow on the soles of my feet Marlboro Lights, and the crazy shoes were soaked. Every time I go home, I have to be reprimanded by the adults, but when the adults are not paying attention, they all slip out. The time of flight made me grow up, my body grew taller, my body grew stronger, but I looked scared at the snow outside the window, afraid to get the clothes wet, afraid that adults would say how you still be like children. Yes, we are not a snow, but a childhood, we are all big, we are all big, we can��t be playing, we can��t climb the floor and take a card, we can��t just say to her: I like you. Childhood, innocent, is the carefree childhood really gone away from us? Yes Online Cigarettes, unconsciously she sneaked away from our fingertips, leaving us with good memories, although in our long journey of life, she was just a flash in the pan, but those eternal moments can not be forgotten, let us take childhood Dreams and memories, bravely move on.Autumn is coming to the winter, and the flowers are withering. I don��t know, and the winter solstice, this warm southern country seems to feel such a cold for the first time. Walking through the mountain trails with the leaves and leaves, watching the mountains and rivers quietly leaving, it is a bit bleak and sad. The early beautiful mountains and rivers were somewhat messy by the hurricane, and the mountain towns that had been surrounded by greenery became pale. They could no longer hear the sweet and euphemistic folk songs and the lingering of birds and insects. The world of snow, the wilderness of the ice, can no longer see the brocades of the spring and autumn, and the riverside is full of the willows of the weeping willows. Only this huge banyan tree resists this at the end of the city. Cold wind. The banyan tree on the edge of the Southland, people always love you so much, you will not fall for thousands of years, no matter whether it is the winter or the heavy rain, you can do it, watch the sea in vain, look forward to year after year. The warm spring flowers of the year are open. You are the messenger of love Carton Of Cigarettes, the embodiment of God. It is you, silently defending the earth for humanity, sheltering the wind and rain, purifying the dust. But the life you have dedicated has not been recognized by everyone, and even some people disdain you and turn a blind eye. Sleepy, you sleep in the dark night, swaying in the dark dust; thirsty, you just spread your long arms and bring the salty rain, hungry, only the nutrients of this soil to maintain Life Your delicate and luxuriant foliage embellishes this open field. Your long, dark beard is always on your chest, and you don't care about all the curious, reverent, contemptuous, and even sly eyes. In the cool summer season, the wind gently passes over you, you are always polite, do not let the lonely flowers around you suffocate because of dullness; in the dense time, you walked through the years Another journey of Cheng, the vicissitudes of the gift of destiny, the silent and warmth of no one knows, telling the earth about the endless memories. You quietly look at the earth that is disturbing, and you seem to have the same desolation and loneliness as human beings. Although you have a huge and generous body, you don��t have the meaning of a fish and a wild goose. The gaze is enough to make the same kind of horror, let the flowers tremble. Who can understand your loneliness and loneliness, look at the dawn of this morning for hundreds of years, and send away the gentleness of this sunset; your green leaves are always shining under the bright moon, although not brilliant, It was enough to race over the stars, to block the dazzling Milky Way. The moonlight tonight was particularly bright, and the ray of light slammed into the white east wall, and the old reflections were mottled into the glass window of the roller blind. For many years, I have been used to the bright moon in front of the window, the hoarfrost outside the window, the faint silver ash as a layer of white rain and fog on the light and thin painting. The night is
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