Miss my hometown (prose poem) Wen/Lu misses my hometown. I miss my hometown beyond description. Hometown is the old wine brewed by Youzi with millet. The longer it lasts, the more mellow it tastes. When I think of my hometown, I miss it quietly. Hometown is full of delicious food, which tempts travelers from afar to taste it. When I think of my hometown, I miss it silently. Hometown is a fragment of a wanderer's childhood memory. The more you manage it, the more you can't control it, and the more you can't piece together a complete picture. When I think of my hometown, I miss it in my heart. The longer I miss my hometown, the deeper my experience of my hometown and the greater my touch on my soul. Hometown, how do wanderers miss their hometown? Miss hometown, in fact, is miss childhood partners, miss the old house, miss the land. However, what the wanderer misses most is his elderly parents. Hometown, miss my hometown, miss my hometown for no reason. Whenever I face the bright moon, I miss my hometown like a flood. Hometown, homesickness, no need for any excuses. The wanderer misses his hometown all the time and will fly away in 2007. We desperately catch up with the pace of time. I work hard every day, but I can't see any achievements, but I see wrinkles crawling on my face. When you are tired, you can only turn on your favorite music and immerse yourself in it. The door of music is open, but I can vaguely see my hometown. When I think of my hometown in winter, the cold moonlight reflects the silver snow. The shadow of the bare branches was cast on the mud wall in horror. However, the tireless laughter of our childhood spread throughout the village, causing bursts of barking. It was so cold, but my friends had a good time. The air is so fresh and the moonlight is so clear. We were sweating like a pig, and we were too hot to disperse in the harsh shouts of our parents. How is the familiar muddy road now? I often go to the clear and sweet spring water, beautiful butterflies, countless delicious green frogs that I can't put down, as well as many nameless insects, natural baths, many beautiful birds, giant slugs, powerful mantis, and a natural ski resort in winter. Is Donggou still so rich? Is it still more attractive than the sea? Do friends' children also go there to play and have a happy holiday and childhood? I really want to go back, steal cherries and begonia, and then run away. All the happiness, I don't know the taste of sadness, endless happiness, great passion in my stomach, where are they now? Are they all left at home or in the city? Suddenly tears welled up in my eyes, because I remembered my neighbor at that time. If you want to live, you can live in a neighbor's house. If you want to eat, you can eat at your neighbor's house. My neighbors' uncles, aunts, brothers and younger brothers still spoil me very much, and all the good ones are brought to me once. Moreover, I was naughty to play with my neighbor's grandmother, causing her to lean on crutches and lotus feet to chase me. I laughed as I ran. Today, such happiness and happiness have vanished. It seems that when you reach out and touch them, they become sand. Here's my idea. Is my classroom still those simple desks? My teacher must still be at my alma mater, sending off batches of me. Silver hair must be getting more and more every year! The playground must not be the loess playground of that year. Dandelion's yellow flowers can't be picked and planted on the playground, and you can't hear the shouts of joy. Which little teacher changed the pen I demonstrated on the wall at that time? I really want to ask the teacher whether our eyes were clear before or our little brother's eyes are clear now. Where are so many clear eyes now? The poplars on both sides of Yong Road in my alma mater must be tall and big. We planted them! I don't know the crops in my hometown. Remember us? In spring, we line up to sow and fertilize, and in autumn, we harvest. As night fell, we were so tired that we lay on the carriage pulling firewood and counted the stars. Dear hometown, you are getting younger and younger. Your children are not young, I miss you gently, I dream about you slowly, I pray silently, take a long vacation for myself, sleep comfortably in your arms, and have fun with my brothers and sisters.
In my memory, autumn in my hometown is always quiet and peaceful, full of longing, like a hermit, enjoying his bitterness alone. My hometown is in the middle of Hunan, a rugged mountain, and some dark wooden houses are staggered in deep valleys; The mountains are bare, without the liveliness and agility of green trees and red flowers. Autumn in my hometown always seems to come slower than in other places, and there is no vigorous weather at all. Now I'm just a guest from my hometown, but since I'm a guest, I can't come naked. I have to bring something. As a result, things like cereals and sweet potatoes will quietly mature in Qiu Li. Therefore, my hometown has a joy beyond bitterness in peace and warmth, and my hometown is more like an inexperienced old man. Some wild chrysanthemums are blooming alone in the mountains. The threshing machine began to ring in the valley, and I suspected it was a catharsis of pain. Lonely harvest and indifferent existence should not be our way of life, but in our valley, life seems to have no more publicity except this form of expression. Autumn in my hometown is bitter and heavy. Rice was taken back and sweet potatoes were buried in the rugged mountains, which were some foods that attracted the villagers' attention. Sweet potato is the staple food of mountain people. It can be divided into pieces to help us tide over the famine. There is no beautiful music in Shan Ye, but the days of shoveling sweet potatoes and rice in late autumn are the most unforgettable. The sharp shovel is in the mother's hand, jumping happily in the bucket, and the shovel collides with the sound of sweet potatoes, forming a symphony with a long lasting charm. I always like to get close to this kind of voice. In its rhythmic singing, I gently open Chai Fei and walk in the moonlight to fetch water from the well. The clear and bright mountain spring will precipitate the sweet potato powder in the sweet potato rice. This is of course the essence of sweet potato. If you cook soup with a few bones and then cook sweet potato powder with soup, it will taste no less than a luxury. Men in the mountains are as strong as mountains, but they will feel weak if they lack the soft wine like women. A person who has drunk enough wine will hold his breath and go to the mountains to pick up bundles of firewood, or go further to pick up carts of charcoal. Because autumn has passed, the cold and long winter will lengthen the story of the mountain people for a long time. People in the mountains don't have to wear gold and silver, but it seems that they can't live without the inherent loneliness and loneliness. Without the heat of charcoal and firewood, the life of mountain people would be as monotonous as a hillside in the wild. So, what constitutes the heavy background of autumn in my hometown? Is it a golden straw pile under the blue sky? Are there wild chrysanthemums in Shan Ye and Shan Ye? Is it a creature that keeps crawling on the lazy mountain road? Of course, that's not all. People in the mountains don't read much. They lack the leisure and elegance of "picking chrysanthemums under the east fence" and the chic and happiness of city people, but they have a feeling of contentment. How many times, when I stand in this harvest mountain, when I stand in front of my mother, my heart will be submerged by a heavy landscape. What can I say in the face of those simple mountain people and the mountains I dream of? I only have blue sky-deep blessings and prayers. Hometown! When will the background color of your life not make us helpless wanderers dream of heartache and see sadness during the day?