Holding hands, breathing the pure and fresh air of nature. Barefoot, stepping on the grass with dew, the cool comfort has been spread to my heart.
I whisper to you and feel the quiet and pure breath; Listen to the ethereal sound and experience the unique silence.
You are my first friend to experience life in the countryside. Maybe it's your red face, watery eyes like grapes, or your unique husky local accent … that attracts me deeply.
I like everything about you. I like the "click-click" sound when you bite the apple. It's crisp and makes people feel very happy and comfortable. I like your hair with bare hair and two braids; I like your little fluffy ball and your originality. I also like your care and patience when raising silkworms. ...
I like playing with you by the river. You said you like the water in this river. At sunset, the glow falls on the river. From a distance, the river is like silks and satins covered with broken gold, which makes people enchanted. I can't help thinking, isn't the famous He Kanghe so quiet and romantic? Reaching out and touching it, the golden satin flowed smoothly through the palm of your hand in an instant, and even suspected that it was a soft cloud. Moreover, fish swim freely in the water, turning somersaults from time to time, revealing a smooth body, and fish scales are particularly smooth and beautiful in the glow, which makes people fondle it.
You hold my hand at night, and your palms are slightly moist, which makes me feel at ease. The sky is full of stars, and several shivering cool winds blow, just like standing on the beach, cool and comfortable.
I'll teach you to recite this poem softly:
Starry sky in summer night
Sketch a beautiful image
Golden brilliance
I want to be Chang 'e.
can
Reach out and touch the starlight
……
In this way, we hold hands and don't know when. ...
At this moment, I will freeze forever, but I don't know that time is passing. ...
I opened my eyes with joy in the morning, and the sunshine scattered on my face through the curtains. Oh! Another beautiful day.
But I didn't find you hiding outside the door and watching me cry.
I was drinking corn porridge on the wooden bench, and your mother fondly stroked my hair and said affectionately, "Go, go, go." Hey! "I turned around and looked at her doubtfully. Your mother smiled and turned back to the kitchen, but you cleaned up the dishes and your eyes turned red in an instant. I don't know, either.
In the afternoon, you still dragged me to the river, but all the way was silent. I was a little surprised, but I didn't say anything in the end. When you get to the river, you suddenly turn around and look serious. You whispered in my ear, "You are leaving tomorrow, and today is the last time you come to the river." This is a fluffy ball I made. Let me leave it to you as a souvenir. "Your voice is soft and slightly hoarse, but the voice as light as a feather falls heavily on my heart. It suddenly occurred to me that the activities in the countryside will be over tomorrow. There is no concept of time in how to play. I look at you blankly, unconsciously, tears flow down my cheeks and corners of my mouth, and I taste bitterness for the first time. ...
You held my head and tears fell on my face. Soon, we hugged each other and cried. ...
When I woke up in the morning, I found it was still quiet around five o'clock. Only a few sparrows called twice from time to time, which broke the silence. I watched you sleep, my eyes were slightly red and my cheeks were still red. I took out a small wooden box containing my favorite octave shell necklace. I gently put it on your bedside, looked at the luggage that had already been taken care of, and gently got out of bed. ...
When I arrived at the village entrance, there were not many people, so I silently got on the bus that had already stopped. Looking at the fluffy ball hanging around his neck, his eyes turned red. Heart light read aloud a way:
Don't cry, my friend.
We'll meet again.
Don't worry about each other's
Leave and cry,
We should study.
Smile and say goodbye.
Our friendship will be as eternal as poetry.