Wang Guozhen
We also love our mother.
But mom doesn't love us.
Our love is a stream.
Motherly love is the ocean.
Dew on unstable grass
Round and bright
That's the light from the sun.
April day
Semiromantic
Half brilliant.
That's where the spring breeze passes.
Our happiness
It's the smile on mom's face.
Our pain
It is the deep sadness in my mother's eyes.
We can walk a long way.
But I can't get out.
...
The wheat is ripe.
king
Dream hometown Huaihuahai
Flowers beat, and the smell of wheat drifted away again.
A boy walking deep in a country road.
Wandering in a foreign land looking for the future
Another year of wheat flowering.
Come back with a broken heart
Mom said there were no wheat flowers in the city.
Come back when you are homesick.
That girl in the country
Not anymore.
The wheat in my hometown is ripe.
Waiting for my return day and night.
PS, both are prose poems. I hope I can help you.