How time flies! It's the rainy season.
The gloomy drizzle floated across the phoenix tree, moss climbed the steps all night, and the curtains in front of the bedroom hung for a day.
Sparse eaves are like autumn sounds, and sorrow comes with the cold spring. Besides, his wife died ten years ago, and today is the day when she died.
Ten years ago, it was such a day. At night, earthworms scream in the yard, and occasionally a cool breeze blows and shakes the window. They bid farewell to the dim light.
He still clearly remembers his wife at that time: a red tide came up, suddenly he opened his eyes, and then there was a loud noise in his throat, and there was silence-a trembling shadow moved on the wall.
Thirty years of husband and wife finally separated, buried in the cold rain and strong wind; Love is buried with her, but there is no pain, and the pain still comes with the cold spring.