往事面目全非,旧人天南海北,哪些记忆,哪些荒唐,折叠成堆;哪些情意,哪些感动,凝如花蕾。打不开的往日悲喜,忆不起眉梢婉转成泪。——题记捻一束花香,品尝世间冷暖,点缀一帘幽梦的往事,聆听一曲记忆的碎碎念。柔一缕清风稍在耳尖,触摸昔日的岁月片段,波起一段涟漪的音符,忧伤已被掩藏,萧瑟了一纸淡墨,把清浅盛放在四季的末期。挽一角花色的裙边,在青色幽蓝的草地里翩翩起舞,绽放心尖那也被尘封多年的花蕊。拉开那天蓝色的窗帘,看着窗外的繁华街道,天空散落一层密密麻麻的雨珠,宛如一群嬉戏的小孩,舞弄着明月阑珊的欣喜,演绎一场多姿多彩的梦里岁月时光。而我就是故事外的一个旁观者,把主角的一切情绪看得一清二楚,却唯独看不见自己, Past events beyond recognition, the old days, what memory, what ridiculous, folded into piles; what affection, what touched, condensate buds. Can not open the past joys and sorrows, can not recall tactfully turned into tears. - Inscription twisting a bouquet of flowers, tasting world warmth, dotted with a dream Yuxie past, to listen to a memory of the fragmented read. Soft breeze slightly at the tip of the ear, touch the old years fragments, waves from a ripple notes, sorrow has been hidden, bleak a piece of light ink, the clear and shallow bloom in the late four seasons. Elegance of the skirts in one corner, dancing in the blue faint grass, blooming apex that was dusty years of flower. Open the blue curtains that day, looking out the window of the bustling streets, the sky scattered layers of raindrops, like a group of playful children, danced with the joy of the dim moon, interpretation of a colorful dream time. And I am a spectator outside the story, all the emotions of the protagonist can be crystal clear, but only can not see myself,