Smoke rises from dry crackling in the blazing fire, the dog is in the hospital did not stop crying. Snow, is the first snow this winter, I gently pushed open the door, the foot in the soft snow, wearing a thick coat, his unreserved exposure in the snow in the sky. Is a snow around the world, everything is white, white mountains, white trees, white roof and white wall...... As if being in a fairy tale, so that I could not help but close your eyes and feel the moment of quiet beauty, in the cool air is filled with the fragrance of food. But I was eating dinner, it was already dusk, sunset yellow and not about in the sky, as it has been known for tonight's world is doomed to snow stage like hide, only the gloomy sky, and belongs to the sky white snow flower. As time goes by getting every little bit, the dark, snow was waving gently, removing the trace of poor world wind is a quiet. I'm standing in the night whispers, standing in the soft snow, any violent thoughts floating in the white dream, the glittering snow will I wrapped tightly, hair, clothes, the palm of your hand, eyes full of their warm scent, the gentle touch of cool, already down the wet the sleeve into the skin instantly Qin through the atrium, spread in the withered body. I have ears to listen carefully, the bleak wind has become increasingly thick, pale night, white snow reflects the gentle glory, like a cold girl, with a mysterious and quiet atmosphere, in the street alley in the leisurely walk, leaving a sparse Qian shadow, intoxicating fragrance, Liaobo a night without moon and stars...... The sky was darker now, and the night had come out completely, and all the colors and sights that had been revealed in the daytime had been replaced by the deep, dark dark blue. Only the dream of the white, in this long night, still seems particularly touching: The flying snowflakes! They are elegant spirit, never conceal their beauty, Cangjin majestic mountain is their gorgeous dance, gurgling streams are affectionate words, the poet's words is their charming smile. The flying snowflakes! They are the ice elves, from the deep sky falls slowly, toward this magical land. Perhaps the short journey is lonely, no birds with no clouds accompanied only lonely flutter in the wind, however, no one can ignore the boundless magic! For their cold is enough to freeze all the seas, and their beauty compels them to be ashamed, even though the moment of landing is to melt, and to live up to the Psalms that sing them. The flying snowflakes! They are pure fairies, just the broken of winter. On the day of genius, they send pure men to the world and purify the boundless world. You see, the boundless white is their soul's color, such as the moonlight like light is sweet in their face, their gentle comfort, dim in the earth does not fade, gray maple leaf never cry, even me, now also no sound in the station it is soft in the palm of your hand and cry, to those who can not speak, ineffable sadness pure snow goddess talk this boundless world. The weather was getting colder and colder outside, and after all I could not stand the cold cold and was forced back into the house. The snow was still falling, and the television in the house was singing the weary songs tirelessly. I stand in front of the TV, the head bright light I made a little dizzy, the left hand side of the radiator from heat waves, drove my body like a cold, just coming out from the icehouse like. However, outside of my heart still miss the snow shoes, climbed to the window across the glass to look at them, the white out of the window to let my eyes blurred, in my mind about the memory of snow at this point has been quietly turned out. I still remember the childhood years and friends frolicking in the snow like; remember the middle row at the cafe play for a few days and nights I like sleeping in the snow; remember to participate in the work of frustration in the snow on the way. It can be said that the fate of me and snow is very deep, but the emergence of snow is often accompanied by a light of the sadness, lingering heart. This kind of feeling is very mysterious, like the autumn moon, full moon in appreciation must also bear the autumn cold; and when not sad, out of order thought heart but could not find a trace of the shadow of the snow. Is it a creation? Or only when sad, gentle, they will change into the white sky to appease me? If you have to make a choice. I would rather believe the latter! Snow, they are my close companions, from toddler to school, to rebellion, to work, and to now, twenty years of memory, twenty years of snow. In these twenty years
