Father's Love is Like a Mountain/White Lagerstroemia Flowers - A poem to my father. My father has an ordinary name, but his determination is revealed in his ordinary name. My father has an easy-going image, but he is remarkably strong in his easy-going nature. My father has a silent appearance and is silent. Father's love is a majestic mountain, a heaven that is generous and powerful and supports a daughter's life-long faith. Father's love is a deep and affectionate sea. It is a vast and boundless store of care, longing and hope for his daughter. Father's love is an ancient vine that is tenacious and unyielding. Father's love is a book filled with years of vicissitudes. It takes a lifetime for your daughter to realize that loyalty is your soul, integrity is your personality, and down-to-earthness is your true character. Steadiness is your style. Tolerance is Forbearance is the virtue you passed down to me. I can’t forget that you carried me on your shoulders when I was a kid, hoping that I could see a vast world. I can’t forget your teachings while riding my bike to take me to school. I long to be able to let my dreams fly. I can’t forget that my daughter is away from home. To learn, you pressed my shoulders with your warm hands and conveyed the instructions to me. I will never forget the faint smell of tobacco on your body and the smell of your fragrant liquor. It is the smell of my father. You are not as gentle as your mother, but you hide your tenderness deep in your heart. Under your wings, I mature day by day and move towards success step by step. I sincerely pray that my father will still be your daughter in the next life, so that I can always be bathed in your father's love like a mountain in this life and the next. Father's love is like a mountain. Text/zydavid2006 Parental love is a gift from heaven. There is no greater love than true love. A mother's love is like water that nourishes my heart, and a father's love is like a mountain that teaches me how to be an adult. My mother's love is as gentle as honey, and my father's love is strong and sincere. Mother's love is as elegant as the spring breeze, and father's love is deep and makes me calm. My mother’s love is always with me, my father’s love is silent and teaches me perseverance. On Father's Day, let us re-perceive our father, and on Father's Day, let us re-understand father's love: Father's love is the stern gaze of a child when he is naughty; Father's love is the palm raised when he is ready to fight; Father's love is the hatred of iron that cannot be made into steel. Sad and impatient, father's love is the simple wish when his son will succeed. Father's love is the eager running to find a child on a snowy night, father's love is the tired figure when treating a child's illness; father's love is the satisfaction of a child's devouring food, father's love is the encouraging eyes when silently paying attention. Father's love is the reluctance to leave a child when he is far away. Father's love is the countless warnings in letters home. Father's love is the longing for the child to come home. Father's love is the excitement and joy when father and son reunite. Father's love is the heartfelt blessing when a child starts a family; father's love is the happy smile after the child starts a career; father's love is the calmness and calmness after the vicissitudes of life; father's love is the grace and determination after the frost on the temples. Father's love is the deepest source of the river of life for a child, and father's love is the best teacher for children to face life; father's love is the strong backing for children to take on responsibilities, and father's love is the inexhaustible motivation for children to strive forward. Father's love is the sun. Even on dark cloudy days, I can feel his light. Father's love is like a mountain. Even in the most difficult times, it encourages me to straighten my spine. Father's love is the Big Dipper, which allows me to identify the direction even at night when I can't see my fingers. Father's love is a big tree that can provide me with a shade even on a scorching summer day. Father's love is a big umbrella that never lets a drop of water fall on me even on a windy and rainy road. Father's love is a broad ocean. Even when I accomplish nothing, he will tolerate me and include me in his warm chest.
Father's love is not as considerate as mother's love. It can be seen everywhere. He is usually buried deep in his heart and only emerges at critical moments. His severity is sometimes as harsh as steel, but when you make achievements, he will smile happily... ... Father's love is a crutch, allowing us to stumble less in life. Father's love is good words, allowing us to make correct judgments. Father's love is sunshine, allowing us to grow up healthily. Father's love is music, making us happy. Life. Father's love is a candle, silently devoting himself to us. When my father is hazy, my father is a big mountain. Sitting on his shoulders, I can always see far and far away. When I am sensible, my father is a stubborn bent pine. Only then did I realize that I The weight is so heavy, so heavy, and now, father, you are a deep poem. The son reads it silently and tears gently flow. Father, the sky is blue, the distant sky is green, the mysterious mountains are quiet, the deep vast earth is full of vitality, and all living beings. What an opportunity to be in harmony with nature. The ridges in the fields are the beautiful musical notation. The grains fluttering in the wind are the dancing notes. The nine-melody stretching mountain road is the string of heaven and earth. It is the light steps of the fathers that pluck it and pop it out. It is actually the life. Sweat rushes in the canal dug by the years, surging with the waves of development. The protruding veins are the Great Wall built by strength. The spirit of Foolish Old Man who moved the mountains extends from here. The moonlight nourishes this quiet night. The water in front of the house takes away all the fatigue. I touch it in the sound of snoring. I can also feel the peace of my father's white hair in the mirror. The years that were built up by the wind and rain are engraved on my father's forehead, which deeply outlines the wisdom and life. The flower has faded. My father's style is no longer still. The traces of the passing are covered with withered trees everywhere. The luxuriant leaves and fragrant grass have long since disappeared. Why are the years so fleeting? I remember that evening when my father took my little hand to watch the setting sun dye the sky with red clouds. It seemed that my father was expecting a dream of mine. I felt guilty and dared not look directly at what my father expected. The vast clouds in my eyes are like my father's deep love for me. I am so happy that I want to cry. When I was young, my father always said to me: I am the big tree, you are the little tree. Now that I have grown up, the little tree wants to say to my father. : You will always be my big tree. My father touched the railings of the city and stood looking at the fragrant soil of my hometown. I thought of my father walking on the soil thousands of mountains away. At that time, my father walked like the wind, changing various hoeing postures and farm tools. Let’s get close to the soil together and fall in love with the soil. The soil kisses us as we roll across the fields in March. In those days, my not-so-luxurious poems grow in the fields, one by one, over my father’s head. Standing like my father is my father’s wish for me for many years. After being away from home for many years, I can vividly see a hunchbacked figure standing in September with a shining sickle in my hand. Standing on the golden field ridges in September, I wrote my blessings to my father. They say that the wind can crack stones, and that rain can corrode steel. It is said that time can bend your spine, but your will is indomitable and unchanging, lifting the weight of the entire family's life. My father's tenderness is like water, playing chess with you for thousands of years. You enter the game, your rook rushes left and right, sweeping through my defense line. My horse moves forward step by step, approaching your lair. My father plays a discordant chess game. I can't destroy your moat. You can't attack my Crystal Palace. Wandering Ziyin