The path at the end of the village
Covered with pebbles and dust.
It twists and turns, high and low.
Carrying the dream of childhood
Stretch out into the distance over the mountains
Every time I come home from school
Walking on it.
It is the witness of my primary school.
?
at present
The path at the end of the village
It's not what it used to be.
Where have you been?
Where are you?
?
The cement asphalt road runs through the mountains.
The road of childhood
Become vicissitudes and shabby.
When I walked on it again
What I heard was,
There was a cry from the path.
Author: Lu Rong Zhuoma
WeChat official account: Modern Poetry (WeChat official account ID: ID:dghwgi 1968)
This article is an original article, the copyright belongs to the author, and it may not be reproduced without authorization!