Like a sunset at dusk
There is infinite goodness.
Hang there
earlier times
No one ever thought about it.
Pick a fruit
On the table.
Outside the window is its hometown.
In the twilight.
Suitable for painting and writing poetry.
A perfect still life sketch
Present to one's eyes
The hazy luster of yellow skin
Circular line
Full and textured
The teenager peeled one happily.
A little sour
A little astringent
A little unexpected
Peel another one.
Like the rising moon.
A little sweet.
at midnight
rather
Read this poem written at dusk.
Read the night before the end.
Read it to the yellow bark tree in the backyard
Read and write to the hometown of countless people.
Every time I read it,
It's all a ritual.
Each one was skinned by a teenager.
That night,
achievement