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Love story of farmer's orchard
My farm orchard

[49466/ Changyu/Momo] [Popularity:130] [2005-8-619: 00: 09]

After two years of love, the first and only drink you bought me was the farmer's orchard, or when I visited you for the first time in two years. Two years, we are thousands of miles apart, our tender hearts. But when I went to see you, I understood that it was thousands of miles away. Our hearts were just a layer of fog thinner than paper, which may have confused our eyes, but when I saw you, it was suddenly opened, so we were bright.

After getting the first bottle of drink you bought, I was very moved, but there was still a touch of warmth. I remember the scene clearly. It's just a drink. I said I don't drink, and I'm not thirsty, but you firmly said, "No, I must buy you a bottle of drink." I still laugh at you. Being a soldier is stupid. You don't have to talk to me so militarily. I am not your friend or leader. You touched your head and smiled. I know you're just used to it. I don't really blame you, I'm just teasing you.

Finally, you brought a bottle, which is a farmer's orchard and a small supermarket. This is the biggest bottle of drink. You don't drink often, I know, so you won't choose, but you bring me the biggest one. Maybe you know it's the best. Actually, I don't know much about drinks. I'd rather have tea and water. When you were in debt, I stood behind you like a happy woman. The little black girl in front of the cashier looked at me with another smile and joked with him, "Where did you cheat?" See you nervously looking at me to explain, angrily scolding the little girl: "What are you talking about? This is not the Lord who can joke casually. She is not to be taunted by anyone. " The little girl looked at me seriously, I stared, and you bowed your head. You always like to flatter me in front of others. As a girl, my vanity has been overflowed by your satisfaction.

The drink was playing in my hand, but it didn't open. You took my hand and twisted it open on my mouth, regardless of the eyes of passers-by. I blushed. Your persistent expression kept me from drinking. Drinks enter my stomach through my mouth, soft, slippery and distressed. Taste it slowly, just like tasting my life. Although you can only give me this bottle of drink, this bottle of sweet and sour drink, it is as sweet and sour as my happiness.

In late spring, the sun will also work late. At six o'clock in the afternoon, the afterglow of the sun still refused to dissipate, slanting on the terrazzo floor, facing his face.

I'm lazy like a winter eye that just woke up, and I won't open my eyes for you to pull with my eyes closed. Maybe I was like a dissatisfied housewife at that time, and I was a little reluctant to add a little gas. Maybe to outsiders, you are bullying me. I know, I guess.

When you stopped, I opened my eyes and greeted your warm smiling face. "Aren't you afraid of falling?" You always like to treat me like a child. You know you won't let me fall. I looked up and said, "No, because we are one. One eye is enough. Too much is a waste. " You whine meanly: "Is it really a little woman?" I was about to open my mouth when you suddenly turned around and put your hand on my face. Your temperature comes from the heart, your breath blows on my face, and my face begins to turn red. You said simply, "Why, why do I love you so much!" "

I have really become a little woman, and my brain can't think, because it has been stained with your sweet icing, and it has become a ball, and it is getting tighter and tighter. From the very beginning, it was a mess, and now it is close to smooth and smooth.

I know, I am a little girl without brains, and I can't think of any other boys except you, that's all. Then let nature take its course.

I suddenly broke away from you and flew ahead, stepping on the red sunshine, and my heart was beating because it found the ideal platform.

But you're really anxious. You shout behind, just use one eye, don't waste too much. Your voice echoed in the air, and a smile bloomed on my face. . .

There is a kind of happiness that is slight, a kind of happiness that can't be described in words, and a kind of happiness that is bitter and sweet, and only you can taste it. There is a kind of happiness that belongs to you completely. A happiness is a person's wealth. Wealth that can be selfish and can only be owned by oneself.

Looking at you is like a kind of happiness, but I never said, maybe I will cherish it all my life, maybe I will tell you tomorrow. .

I know I'm happy because of you. . . . .