In the light of the log cabin
An old man and a child.
Chatting in that wooden house
The old man stood up from his chair.
Go far away.
sunset
His back is looming.
Children's tears
Fall into endless memories
When spring comes.
There are two figures in the garden.
An old man and a child.
In that blooming season.
The child gave the old man a flower.
The old man felt the beauty of spring.
When summer comes,
There are two figures in the country.
An old man and a child.
In that hot season
The child handed the old man a cup of boiled water.
The old man felt the coolness of summer.
When autumn comes,
There are two figures in the orchard.
An old man and a child.
In the fruit-rich season
The child gave the old man an orange.
The old man felt the sweetness of autumn.
When winter comes
There is a figure in the hut.
Only old people who are ill in bed.
In that season of ice and snow
The child is not with the old man.
The old man felt the desolation of winter.
The old man didn't make it through that winter.
The child's tears flowed out
The child regretted it.
Can't accompany the elderly at the last minute.
The child can't remember the old man's face.
But the old man came back.
The child is vivid in my mind.
Reciting prose poems 2 Time is slowly peeling off.
That gorgeous coat
residual
Just messy emptiness
I've come so far.
But I still can't escape.
Your memory
In the spring rain, in Xia Feng.
Always hide your smile.
Zhu's leaves are gone, and the snow and ice are separated.
I have several beards that are not old.
Vicissitudes of life, but still young.
Years are always hazy, and love is too far away.
I can't see.
All I see is a back.
In reality, I look forward to her every one.
But every time they turn around, it's not you
In my memory, I always see someone with his back to me.
It's you again, so mysterious
I like sunny days so much.
The sunshine, however, is always addicted.
I feel more and more afraid to recall.
In my memory, I am a sad person.
The good guys gave it to me, and the bad guys are also me.
Pity is mine, hatred is mine.
Therefore, I am afraid to go back to the past.
In memory, everything is beautiful.
What I see, if not your back.
It's that you smile at me, even if you are angry.
This is also a good thing, because maybe so.
There will be no separation, but is it possible?
But I still thank you, if it weren't for you.
I wouldn't know myself so deeply.
It's not easy to wait, but time is still hazy.
The years are sad and the poem is at the end.
It always ends well.
Live outside poetry, but be kind.
Continue the relay. I've seen too much about floating.
The gift is too thin and the road is too long.
So I can only wish.
I used to love you the most.