The family in the distance is waiting for someone to return home. The flowers in front of the door have opened and closed, counting for us how many years we have missed. I can't stop thinking about it, it's like a silk brocade painting, it's so long and thin that it's scary. The promise is very sweet, but that was just before, our distance is getting farther and farther, the promised forever is thrown to the sky, disappeared. I can see the past with my tearful eyes, but why have we come so far to realize that everything in the past was too sweet? The night is so long, the breeze and the candlelight sway gently, the tears turn into frost, and all night long the shadows become a pair. The cuckoo is returning, the bamboo is still seeing tear marks, listening to the iron horse ice river into the dream, remembering the bitter sweet tears hard to swallow. In the fall of that year, the park, we lay side by side, lying by the river, take a look, your heart my fingertips, heart and hand connected, the taste is so sweet. The kite in the sky and the thread on the ground, just like between us, accompanied by each other, you made a promise, said to me forever. Again in the fall, still in the park, sweet, but no longer reproduced, once the kite broke the line, that there is what the promise, forever set in stone.