The little thingsare the finer thingsThe fire purified Moor then diamond rings
It is inconceivable for me to believe this sleep-in life, alive in this dream.
The day departs, a little bit offended,the sun hides shyly, and it’s time to go.The road is made of grey…
When the sunsets,And birds fly back to home,In crimson light,I hold my pen to make a…
As always, autumn departs the summer’s grace, and the weary sun slowly fades away…
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