Once upon a time, we met under the tree at the top of the mountain and told stories from all corners of the country. Your bright eyes were so focused. I smelled your hair in the wind, and that smell made me indulge in it all my childhood. You are very timid. Wherever you go, you should hold your hand. It is very happy to think about it. Holding hands with you is a habit. We always meet and separate in the gaze, and then meet again after separation. Every time you leave, I will sit quietly under the tree and miss you, your pure eyes, your hair fragrance and your little temper.
The mountain road in my hometown is left for us to dig wild vegetables and pick mushrooms. Next to the flowing stream, your singing remains the same. You like to wear wild flowers in your hair and get the fish drunk according to the river. When I say you stink, you pout and pretend to be angry, scaring me into coaxing you and making sure I take everything myself and carry you behind my back. However, you snickered on my back and let me see it in the shadow of the water. So far, I haven't told you that your singing is beautiful. Even if I think about it now, it is an eternal sweetness.
How many times have we been lying on the roof, telling stories we heard from adults, so fascinated, so fascinated. Looking at the stars all over the sky, looking for the brightest cowherd and weaver star on both sides of the Milky Way, expecting birds to build a bridge for them as soon as possible, so that lovers can get married as soon as possible. At that time, the biggest dream was to take you to see the grassland, go to the seaside together, watch seagulls fly, watch the waves hit the rocks one after another, still hold your hand, never give up, and share life and death.
You have your garden and I have mine. We are not only neighbors, but also the garden. How many times in the storm, I went to your garden to pick flowers and transplanted your flowers into mine, and you were not angry. Adults often tease you. When you grow up and become his wife, you will blush and hide in the corner. When no one is waiting, secretly lie in my ear and tell me. Let me ask you, will you? You nodded silently. From then on, my heart took you as my wife, and I will always remember the happiness and feelings during that time.
Every time I hear a familiar song or watch a similar TV series, I will think of you, and think of us catching grasshoppers and catching bugs for chickens. The grass beside the village is wide and boundless, and one tower head is connected with another, full of countless small flowers, most of which are mother-in-law flowers, that is, dandelion flowers, yellow flowers, full of fields. In the wind, there are mature dandelion umbrellas floating in the distance, looking for their dream land with seeds and budding dreams.
Although I am naughty and scheming and always make you cry, you also know my weakness, that is, I am afraid of bugs. All for you. I went to pick the fruit from the Ding Zi tree and let the bark fall into my neck. It's still rolling, and all the soft ones are Mao Mao, which scared me to make a hullabaloo about, even jumping and screaming, in order to get rid of bugs. I woke up in my dream for many days and never climbed the tree again. Until today, I rarely have a shady figure under the tree, and sometimes I dream of the scene under the tree, which has become my eternal dream.
I have learned everything that girls play with you, and you have learned everything that boys play with me. You dare to try riding a horse. Cows, donkeys and partners all say you are a tomboy. Everyone wants to play with you. There are boys everywhere, and you don't have to do anything. But you just like to follow me, read comic books with me, and let me tell you serial stories. It's all ghost stories. You're always afraid to lean on me. I learned to make strange noises like a ghost. I was so angry that you ignored me for several days and secretly sent me delicious food. That candy is too sweet.
One day, the moon climbed to the treetop, and we stood under the tree in front of the door, looking at the moon and wondering if Chang 'e lived in it. I saw your tears in the moonlight. I asked you what happened. You said that your family was moving to the south, and we were as far apart as Sister Chang 'e. I was afraid that I would miss you and never see you again. I saw tears running down your cheeks, shining with crystal light. The tears reflected by the moonlight have cooled my heart, and I am at a loss, looking at you quietly and quietly. You are as beautiful as sister Chang 'e, and I kissed your forehead with tears in my eyes.
It was a summer morning, and before the dew was shaken off and hung on the grass leaves and branches, your things were packed in a carriage and ready to be transported to the station. The villagers all came to see me off, saying hello, saying goodbye and blessing, but you just stood silently watching me. I walked up to you gently and said to you, I'll see you when I grow up, and you wait for me. You say no, I will come back to see you, just wait for me under the hawthorn tree. Say that finish, you got into the carriage, the bell rang, and your figure disappeared at the entrance of the village.
Countless nights after you left, I will sit in front of the door, staring at the tree in a daze, thinking about your figure and your dribs and drabs. When I was a child, I knew that missing is a kind of pain, but I still can't help but miss you. Listening to the messy frogs around, watching the shining stars all over the sky, a little boy, sitting on the low wall in front of the door, looking at the distance, thinking of you quietly and quietly. Miss you, become a habit, a habit, that is, miss you, think, think, grow up.
How many rainy days, holding an umbrella, standing on the street corner, looking at the distance, the rain outside the umbrella falls like tears, and the tears inside the umbrella fall like rain. How many times have I fantasized about you in a small town in the south, a bluestone Gu Xiang? You must be thinking about your other half. He, like me, is in the far north. So, I studied hard, wandering with thoughts that I couldn't give up, just for the promise I made, I waited for tens of thousands of days and nights under the vicissitudes of the mountain tree. No sign of you, no news of you. Is it because the wind blew away my address that you wrote countless letters and didn't know where to send them?
Decades have passed in an instant, and the more I want to forget you, the more I will think of you. Looking at the snowflakes flying outside the window, I think you must be middle-aged like me in the south. You have become a mother, and your children are as old as us. Do you remember the promise you made when you left? Mangosteen fruit trees disappeared, the trunk withered and was cut into firewood. But there is a silly boy who has been sticking to his old place. Even in the days of wandering, he didn't forget the meeting under the tree.
Snowflakes flying, missing like hemp, watching a lamp, watching the long night, listening to old songs, thinking of you quietly and quietly. Childhood girl next door, your every heartbeat, your every throb, have you ever thought of me, a silly, silly boy? I have been hugging you in the distance. I feel sunny when I think of the sea.
A lonely figure, alone with loneliness, with inexplicable words with a innocence, a nostalgia. Therefore, words are accompanied by feelings. On a starry night, in a city without music, I miss you quietly and quietly. Quiet, quiet, I miss you in the distance.