Mom is the lyrics of my blue sky poem

Mom's face is a book with many words written on it. When I got good grades, my mother's mouth turned up and she was beaming. I read-"Make persistent efforts". When I was sick, my mother stroked my hot forehead and looked concerned. I read "Get well soon". I broke the window of my neighbor's house, and I ran away. My mother was angry, and I read-"Correct when you know your mistake". In the park, I helped the fallen child, and my mother gave me an approving look. I read "Helping others". On my mother's birthday, I sent her a beautiful card. My mother's eyes narrowed into a line, and I read it-"Smart and sensible". Mom's face is a face that people can't get tired of seeing. If only I were a pigeon in the sky, I could embrace the sky. Although the sky that birds flew over can't leave traces, I like the blue of the sky, which was blue ten years ago and still blue ten years later. It is a paradise that will not be lost by the years. The sky in March is a piece of illusory melancholy clouds, heavy and dark clouds, and the weight of them is slowly gathering as eternal darkness as my silent heart. The sky in March is a piece of gray tears. The capacity of the deep, drooping and dark clouds is rising in a long time. The sky in July is light and thin, and the sunset in autumn is always so tired. Slowly, however, ditches and fences are gradually falling into the dusk, and the melancholy clouds, rustling like tears, have gone away with the wind. The sky in July is sweet, lonely and calm. This is a season without weight and texture, and the beauty of the earth and the depth of the sky are really a reverie. Under the clouds, the girl who is riding a car shakes like a flying swallow flapping her wings, and the figure gradually blends with the sky. Under the sky, I stare at my wishes. Swallow, please fight as much as you like. The vastness of the sky will belong to you, Swallow. My wishes to you will never condense bit by bit like water turns into ice, but fly under the same sky like stone turns into sand. The sky is still blue ten years ago. If you are still dissatisfied, please send me a message with the connection of the question. Thank you.