"He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest; My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song. I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood, For nothing now can ever come to any good."
用户评论
苏小拗
2024-08-22 06:03
忽然不想飞
2024-08-21 08:27
荡仔
2024-08-22 01:46
林以之
2024-08-22 01:23
司清晓
2024-08-22 04:34