每朵花都有属于自己的诗,每个人都有属于自己的故事。诗与故事的交织、碰撞出奇妙的火花,令人心醉神迷。我的故事,只有花知晓……灰色的云朵大片大片地掠过,天空被压得很低,仿佛触手可及。空气也停滞了,让人喘不过气来。心情被阴霾浸透的我独自走在回家的路上,就像戴望舒《雨巷》中的丁香姑娘,“撑着油纸伞,独自在彷徨中悠长、悠长”。只不过我没有那结着愁怨的 Each flower has its own poem, everyone has their own story. Interwoven with poetry and story, the collision of a wonderful spark, it is fascinating. My story, only flowers know ... large gray clouds swept across the sky, the sky was pressed low, as if at your fingertips. The air is also stagnant, breathless. The mood is saturated with the haze I walked alone on the way home, like Dai Wangshu “Rain Lane” in the clove girl, “propped oil paper umbrella, alone in the long, long ”. But I do not have those melancholy