July seventh, so you put a rose

Iverson seventh day, month not round, a cold autumn rain, standing on the end of the seasons change, I Wang Chuan beauty return date, it is regrettable, reclining lean months, no one send Acacia。  Under the fence, a late opening of the flower, the wind crawled over and shake off the cold flap beads, provoke the geese south to frequently look back, put on hold the wings are gone this fall landscape。  I stand, is Homeward posture, hair light rain in turn, rather than go down, I felt the cold thin, is a signal from the season, and to the piece of fluttering leaves, fixed in my line of sight inside, that clearly farewell to life through a vein。  Then I extended a hand to it, a trace of cold stretches through the center of my palm lines, stop in my left chest, into trembling heart palpitations。  Some people say my lifeline is very long, very short emotions, I know they do not consider my life miserable。  Who wants to accompany me to see year after year, autumn to spring, and I had together who wants this seventh day of July。  I prepared a rose, placed in the autumn after the tree, so I thought just do not want to let her quietly withered when you have not come。  Autumn has a spirit, I know that when I was separated from the length of time for those being tangled, a drop of rain would let me wake up。  Therefore, they fall in love with the rain。  Rain hazy, Jianjue clothing alone, with an umbrella on, no longer stand in the path of all the green, bending forward, under rugged humid, summer insects no longer sing, I hear groans top of the umbrella, as if light vine woman's footsteps, such as fine silver, if Qiao Ying Xian。  I slowed down, for fear of a surprise coming autumn marks, the rose still still under the tree, just off the yellow covered, then cross over to conceive, is lifeless life, you should have the right to know?  I gently brushed her help, those old colorful petal has changed color, like a man child ailing, miserable white。  Can you still did not come back。  That said, I love the line very short people who told me that she was also so short lifeline。  I said, I do not believe, I'm just willing to stand Homeward position, it is autumn in the direction of the waves to scratch, I know, you did not leave。  Otherwise, how can I hear the wind language。  She says you just say goodbye to the romantic look, under a bloom next spring or next will come back。  I always believed, as I believe, the butterfly flew some Lianzhao breath flowers。  So, I am in July, put a rose, wait for life to reproduce。  Wind told me that you care, Corolla garden trees to be cleared, if not returned, every now and then is a Reiki。  I will be sad together, hiding umbrella little world quietly raining, co-dripping sound, constantly hide their faces。  Eventually met you, I was full of dead branches paved trails, see a trace of souls in my sky flying, under the autumn sky, Nama rain cloud, quietly drifted away。  July seventh day, you are still left, leaving a loss of fragrant roses to trees, throw me in a lonely rain。