院子里的牵牛花,淡蓝色,总是那样的妖艳和神秘,我多半不去采摘,它只是静静地伫立着,微风轻轻吹动着翠绿的叶子,娇嫩的花瓣在空中轻轻抖动,那记忆的碎角便一点点抖落下来.绿色的藤蔓从屋角一块巴掌大的土地上,不断地生长,延伸,紧紧缠绕上了那脱漆的木制窗户,同生同息。夏天一到,蓝色的牵牛花便极尽地装扮着窗户,只是花再怎样的美丽,也掩盖不了老屋的破败,老屋的年纪一定比它的主人还大。老屋是一间低矮的黑 Morning glory of the yard, light blue, always so glamorous and mysterious, I mostly do not pick, it is just standing quietly, breeze gently blowing the green leaves, delicate petals in the air gently Jitter, then the memory of the broken corner will be a little shake off the green vine from the corner of a slap on the land, continue to grow, extend, tightly wrapped on the paint the wooden windows, with the same interest . When the summer arrives, the blue morning glory will do its utmost to dress up the window, but just how beautiful the flowers can not cover up the dilapidated old house, the old house must be older than its owner. The old house is a low black