Five. I am waiting for the people

Your name is precious, I have long fascinated.
Engaged in a flourishing lonely, I do not know tired to dream of you, dreaming about you all.
Even if the whole family, and butterflies fluttering everywhere then Zhangci, even Fengkuang rain note, even though my verge of breaking branches and Yaya, wilt, and I still dream of you.
You are not the days, in addition to the stars and the moon, I just colorless, odorless glass of wine, drank quarter alone.
Wait, I wait for dark and bright eyes, waiting for casual dream, while waiting for the fingers and roses bloom, so you are my eyes in my arms, smiling peacefully, so that some sense of gradual recovery.
A long time, the word blurred warm, let me incomprehensible.
But I'm used to this kind of waiting, as if he is a natural course of time waiting for a Private Life.
A dream, past lives of the crazy, ask who can discern?
When your radiant light in the sky, when you could walk in from the brisk pace of the way, when your beautiful face as the morning mist in a dream is getting closer, I thought that he saw die on Mount Olympus the god of youth.
So I bow again and again, not watching you.
You strode stepped forward to, as I drew a city, drawing a simple house, and then me and you get painted.
We sat face to face in the picture, to smile.
------- My left hand, green tea. Your right hand, green tea. The middle is the soothing music. Those words touched intermittent family, art, food and crime, how hard to hit a man in love with another person. Then there are two hands under the table, tightly grips, finger circulation of the desire and passion.
Trance, I saw you many years later with white hair, deep wrinkles. I do not polished, just save and fondling. At that time, I'm old, and even older than you, like a tree covered with scars. But I only have eyes for you, only bursts of autumn cool earth. We helped each other, in the wind, can walk as far.
At this point, already very successful in life.