But mom doesn't love us.
Our love is a stream.
Motherly love is the ocean.
Dew on Achnatherum splendens
Round and bright
That's the light from the sun.
April day
Half romantic, half brilliant.
That's where the spring breeze passes.
Our happiness
It's the smile on mom's face.
Our pain
It is the deep sadness in my mother's eyes.
We can walk a long way.
But I can't walk out of my mother's square.
It was this poet friend who touched my memory of my mother. I liked Wang Guozhen's poems very much in my youth.
At that time, I was wondering whether Wang Guozhen really lived in a very clean world, otherwise, how could he write such a pure poem.
It's shocking!
Now, I have been dyed in various colors by the society, and the only constant is my true self!