缓缓掉落的枫叶,像思念落进书的扉页,浸出血色的泪。书页已经泛黄,层层褶皱间含着曾经的泪,若即若离的泪痕,时隐时现。已记不清这是第几次伸手去抚平微翘的书角,翻过熟悉而又陌生的一页又一页。温暖的液体,又溢满了眼眶,簌簌落下。 Slowly falling maple leaf, like missed the book page, immersed in bleeding tears. The pages have been yellowed, with tears between layers of folds. It is not clear that this is the corner of the book that reached out on several occasions to smooth out the slightest turn, turning over familiar and unfamiliar pages after page. The warm liquid overflowed the eyes and fell down.