Addressed to the “Love of the Hawthorn Tree” Love wandering in the rain.

Come meet with you once the youngest river, I came perhaps ignorant of the love that so far, the years also with sadness entangled in your feelings wandering meet in your palm there is an intimate poetry is waiting a sad river I came, at the time the youngest love dry season in the open white flowers of hawthorn flowers, bringing back memories of my commitment in the sad thoughts into chapters Sylvia condensed into hot love, you will dedicate here lingering love hawthorn next youngest, I listened only to be instantly Whispering wind to bring a touch of tears, a flood of white flowers into the ocean of grief that soaked bitter poems, flowers graceful posture that joint together in silence you haven of peace insight into the true meaning of love, the youngest, I know you’re with me warm embrace fantasy then, witnessed a most unusual purity in hawthorn blossom time, clean, hot love, once walked..Wen: Adventure is a taste of life