A poem for mom, mom wanted to write a poem for you for a long time, but she didn't write it well many times. I don't know how to start, how to end or how to write this poem for you, just like when I was a child, I didn't know whether to accept it bravely or choose to escape from my mother. I thought of you again tonight, and I decided to write a poem for you. Even if it is not well written, even if you are far away, you will never read it … Mom, if you see one in your dream. This is your beloved daughter with tears in her eyes. Wan Shui Qian Shan, ask him to take her love and sorrow home. Bing Xin, your pale fingertips manage my sideburns. I can't help holding on to your skirt like when I was a child. My mother tried to keep you from disappearing. Although the morning light has cut my dream into smoke, I still dare not open my eyes for a long time. I still cherish that bright red scarf, for fear that washing it will make it lose your unique warmth. My mother's years are as ruthless as the running water, fearing that my memory will fade. How dare I open its screen easily? I cried to you for a thorn. Now I wear a watch and dare not moan. Mom, I often look up at your photos sadly. Even if I call for penetrating the loess, how dare I disturb your sleep? I dare not show the sacrifice of love like this. Although I have written many songs for flowers, the sea and the dawn, my sweet, soft and deep memory of my mother is not a torrent or a waterfall, but a dry well that can't be sung among flowers and trees-Shu Ting's mother is humble as moss, solemn as dawn, soft as the voice of the south of the Yangtze River, hard as a thousand years of cold jade, bright moon when she looks up, and vast land when she looks down. -Love (1) Your greatness condenses my flesh and blood, and your greatness shapes my soul. Your life is a journey of love. You weave a calendar with beautiful rings that smell of ink. I spend every year in your love, playing on your shoulders and knees. (2) You are a big tree. You dream of prosperity in summer and maturity in autumn. Winter depends on you to meditate on your height and width. You gave me life, mother. When I am sad, you are my comfort. When I am depressed, you are my hope. When I am weak, you are my strength to shelter me from the wind and rain in your little harbor. You have broadened my horizons. You are my best friend forever, the driving force of life. (4) You bend over to protect you with love and care, show your bright heart, and your energetic smile strengthens your boiling blood. Let me immerse myself in your joy, let me enjoy your warmth, let me revel in your arms, let me snuggle up in your arms, let me snuggle up in your arms, let me stay in your arms, let me stay in your arms, let me stay in your arms, let me stay in your arms, let me stay in your arms. It is my mother's ideal fruit. When I grow up, my mother's black hair shines like frost on a maple leaf. I kissed the traces of those years and gave my heart to you. (9) May fragrance and mellow fragrance haunt your life _ May my silvery laughter fill your brow. May all my blessings rub into your heart. A green leaf is full of its friendship with the root. An ode condenses my love for you and makes the flowers in your heart bloom. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. Who can say that a filial child like the weak can repay his mother's love like the sunshine in spring?