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Maybe, underneath the icecold appearance of the steel bench, was a throbbing
heart. He/she hated the unfairness of the fate, being restricted even with
the multiple ambitions.
The empty steel bench, even with the steel skeleton, was subdued by the
flecked snow.
Neighboring with the lakeful still water, he/she is lonely, void, exposed
to and was at the mercy of the elements.
With the passage of time, rust came on to him/her. Without gripping the time of blossom in the spring, looking backwards, he/she suddenly felt that too much has passed by. The harrowing love, turned into a unbearable farewell. The fetters, the cuffs, are to blame. The obscure aspiration, the lonely retrospection, doomed to be fastened by the black nail.
How do I hope, those who once sat on the bench, the passing travellers of life, could tarry here longer. The black-haired juvenile, could you please play here more? The gray-haired seniors, could you please tell more stories at your youth to the bench?
However more often, the steel bench was inundated by the darkness and accumulated the beauty of the frost. The lonely bench could only complain to the lake, "I would never be a bench if I could have another chance. I will never be a bench, in 10000 years."更多精彩文章及讨论,请光临枫下论坛 rolia.net
Maybe, underneath the icecold appearance of the steel bench, was a throbbing
heart. He/she hated the unfairness of the fate, being restricted even with
the multiple ambitions.
The empty steel bench, even with the steel skeleton, was subdued by the
flecked snow.
Neighboring with the lakeful still water, he/she is lonely, void, exposed
to and was at the mercy of the elements.
With the passage of time, rust came on to him/her. Without gripping the time of blossom in the spring, looking backwards, he/she suddenly felt that too much has passed by. The harrowing love, turned into a unbearable farewell. The fetters, the cuffs, are to blame. The obscure aspiration, the lonely retrospection, doomed to be fastened by the black nail.
How do I hope, those who once sat on the bench, the passing travellers of life, could tarry here longer. The black-haired juvenile, could you please play here more? The gray-haired seniors, could you please tell more stories at your youth to the bench?
However more often, the steel bench was inundated by the darkness and accumulated the beauty of the frost. The lonely bench could only complain to the lake, "I would never be a bench if I could have another chance. I will never be a bench, in 10000 years."更多精彩文章及讨论,请光临枫下论坛 rolia.net