When I was a child, I always liked to hold your hand bigger than mine.
When I was a child, I always liked to climb on your flat back.
When I was a child, I always liked to follow your figure.
I always liked your intimate address when I was a child.
When you grow up, your hands become rough and cocoon.
When you grow up, your back becomes hunched and bent.
When you grow up, your figure will drift away or even disappear.
When you grow up, your name "intimacy" weakens.
Warm in your arms, but I don't know your cold.
I once naively thought that you had an unchanging back.
It is time that has changed you.
It turned out that white hair was drilling into black hair.
But now it is black hair day after day, year after year into white hair.
Your face is getting old.
Time is slow!
Don't let you get old again.
Modern fatherly love poems II
Father's road
tell me
Erected heart tablet
Will become a signpost for progress.
This road
Go on in my life.
Ordinary father
No ode
No feat
Only stories I miss.
I should have brave faith.
stand out
Go my father's way.
Show a brilliant tomorrow
Modern Poetry about Fatherly Love (Ⅲ)
The eye socket is deep and tiny.
Collapse, eyes still there.
It is the lamp of diligence and wisdom;
Follow my leadership in this world.
The hair has dried up
Pumbaa hung loosely.
If the waterfall hangs, it will be long.
Years, human suffering and troubles are intertwined.
Life's wind, frost, rain and snow slowly stagnated, solidified and persisted for a long time.