Rose
I picked a bunch of pink rose in the morning .I fell in love with her in an instant.What a cutest fairy ,forgotten back to heaven.Sweeter than honey than ever.Just like a poem,a look is a lief.
The sun is someone urging her to go home.Thus he is plating a layer of gold on her lace.When he is the fiercest，she have to give back the bright,and be the most original yellow look.
What a pity！Is this the worst side of the sun?
For a moment，I understand what you want me to understand：After enjoying the most shineing time, then forget everything.
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