Evening autumn feeling
 
  Autumn and winter alternate, this time is the most difficult when not heating.
 
  God, it ’s not piercing to say cold, not cold, and the small wind blows people like the leaves of twilight, so desolate.
 
  At this time, my hand will be more sensitive to the change of season than my heart. It is rough and chapped. Five fingers are evenly split into a small mouth. No amount of hand cream can cure the crack. wound. With a lot of effort, there will be blood stains, ten fingers connected to the heart, pain, pain in the heart.
 
  Perhaps the only cure is not to touch cold water, but this requirement, for a patient with advanced cleanliness, seems a bit too harsh and extravagant.
 
  Pain, work, maybe life itself is painful.
 
  Daily, when twilight is getting stronger, dragging himself a tired walking on the way home, looking at the road on both sides of the leaves have withered trees, they indifferent vigil vast wilderness, though silent, but people feel life 's vicissitudes With heavy. A piece of dead leaves will leave the embrace of the big tree even in a faint autumn breeze, swaying and flying in the air, finally falling into the ground, and on the occasion of reincarnation, completing its glorious mission of "turning into spring mud and protecting flowers". The departure of leaves is not the pursuit of the wind, nor the indifference of the tree, but the cycle of life, the normal state of nature. You can't keep it, you can't stop it.
 
  The night of late autumn comes early, eats early, and drills into the quilt early. However, the cold air permeates every inch of the body's skin, and the hands are too cold to stick out of the quilt. Without the assistance of two hands, except to watch TV, Everything is futile, but I can't watch TV, and I don't want to spend my life on meaningless things. In this way, the struggling self in the future will not forgive the self-relaxed self.
 
  I still encourage myself to pull out books, look at something, write something, so that the soul in the world of text creation can not get the warmth that is not available in reality. When the soul has room to rest, the heart becomes peaceful and soft.
 
  In the early morning, when the dawn dawn has not yet climbed the curtains, I have drilled out of the bed and started hugging the new day. Although the warmth of the quilt makes me infinitely nostalgic, the dedication to working for a better life will also linger in my heart. When it is not the alarm clock that wakes you up, but your dream , your future will be dyed with hope.
 
  Evening autumn, always feel so much. Grab the tail of autumn, the last smile that blooms.