A world is too small for you, even if you use your hands and feet.
Bend down and you can't get in. Adult excuses.
Even if you explore and peep with an analytical eye,
With a happy expression
Eavesdropping all our conversations,
You still can't find the center. We dance, we play, and life is still asleep.
Under that closed flower,
Under the smooth eggshell,
The egg in the cup-shaped nest,
Laugh away your melancholy in your more distant paradise.
2. Your children
Not your child.
But life longs for its children.
They came through you.
But not from you.
Although they are with you, they don't belong to you.
You can give them love.
But you can't give them ideas.
Because they have their own ideas.
You can protect their bodies.
But they can't hide their souls.
Because their souls live in the house tomorrow.
That's beyond your wildest dreams.
You can try to imitate them.
But you can't make them like you.
Because life does not go backwards.
Don't stay in yesterday.
You are bows, and your children are arrows of life on strings.
The shooter locked the target at infinity.
Fill you with divine power
Let his arrow shoot fast and far, and turn your bending in the shooter's hand into joy.
3.6 1 day, I want to wear a flowered skirt.
On June 1 day, I want to sing a children's song lightly.
June 1 day, I want to play the accordion.
On June 1, I want to let the red scarf float on my chest.
Thanks to yesterday, the wind opened the door of memory.
The hidden bow was exposed in the rain.
Immature dance steps changed the rhythm.
Fairy tales are left behind like handkerchiefs.
Length of rubber band
Pull out the white hair on your forehead
Those skipped chalk squares
Can't cross, ponytail is smart.
Sunflower smile
It is a drop of dew that can give warm and heavy luggage.
Start bit by bit and spread out in the years of twinkling stars.
The temperature in the eyes has penetrated the vicissitudes of life. Our motherland is a garden.
Walking in the warm sunshine.
See also June 1 ST, the old flower skirt children's song dances the sun and the moon on the black and white keys.
Sleep in the innocence of refusing to sleep.