Chapter 1: Father's Day, at noon,
He said, a dragonfly flew over our house.
That day, the sun was setting,
He said there was the last flower in the west building.
Let go of the fetters of clay pots,
He said, tired.
In the hospital bed in the first room,
Flowers filled his stubble.
Touch the delicate core,
He said, you can't give up.
He is our father.
He leaned his head against the wall and said that wind and cold would damage flowers.
He looked up at the sky and longed for the sunshine to produce wonderful flowers.
He worked hard until late at night, listening to the flowers.
He paints skillfully, but he laughs at my graffiti.
A touch of morning glow flew into the sky.
Gorgeous rosy clouds can not dye his white hair.
That flower doesn't bloom well.
He said it was already luxurious.
Peach blossoms and willows are green, and the news of spring is late.
The cicadas on the branches gave me a boring summer.
Sparse trees and heavy clouds cover me in autumn.
In the cold winter, I am still under your wings.
God, it collapsed in an instant.
Paper flies over the yellow sand that covers the sun.
Crows in the Song Dynasty stopped on coffins.
His calloused hands,
With flowers in his hand.
It's windy, so he blocks the sand for me.
It is raining. He took me to see the sunset in Jiangnan.
It is dark at night, he said. Don't be afraid.
The festival is coming, he said, go home quickly!
But where are you now?
My dad!
Chapter two: Father's Day without father's support, my hands are shaking.
Touch it carefully, Father's Day is close at hand.
I sent a message to my brother saying
However, let's go back and have a look tomorrow.
This is a Father's Day without a father.
My son wants to serve his parents when they are old, but they are gone.
Illness has bent his father's body.
Erase from our hearts
In the corner of the old house, there is a sickle without a handle.
It's already rusty.
However, some memories.
Like a pipe from my father.
As the smoke rises,
At night, I slept in that bed again.
This is the bed where my father slept.
I slept, too. I slept in my childhood dream.
I dreamed again, sitting on my father's shoulder.
I only think gently, and my hand touches the sky.
I don't want to wake up, or hope
Dreams are endless.
Although the sky is always bright.
My dreams always wake up, too.
But I'd rather use
Kerosene lamp half core, look for it.
Father is waiting in the bullpen. Go and listen.
The call of a calf after birth
Oh, Father's Day without a father
How can I sleep well?
On such a night.
I always put my cheek, which is good.
Cold tears
Quietly, enter the dream.
Become my father's familiar expectation.
Chapter three: I think of my father's pile of paper money and a column of sandalwood on Father's Day.
Send it to an invisible paradise,
Father in heaven!
Do you know how much your children miss you?
Will you protect us?
An isolated grave,
Cut off the bridge where blood is thicker than water,
A glass of wine,
Shane's parenting is like a mountain.
Thousands of tears, thousands of words,
Tell the endless sadness of parting,
Crying and kneeling to comfort my father's soul,
A bunch of plain flowers worship the grave.
Chapter four: Father's love is like a mountain-dedicated to Father's Day. If maternal love is like water,
Therefore, father's love is a mountain.
If maternal love is a trickle,
Then, fatherly love is a rolling cloud.
Motherly love is warm,
Makes you feel everywhere.
Fatherly love is heavy,
Maybe it will take you years to taste it.
When you were born in this world,
Two equal loves are dedicated to you selflessly,
It's just that love has different expressions.
Maybe,
Father can't give you a sip of milk,
But he used that huge body-
Carrying this family.
Maybe,
Father never cooks three meals a day,
But in the wild, in the factory—
He is busy.
Sometimes,
He hasn't shown up for a long time,
I often worry about you in my dreams.
Your cradle,
He knitted it himself;
Your stroller,
He built it himself.
When you grow up,
What mistakes do you make occasionally?
Father always uses that stern look,
Looking at you,
This kind of eyes is also a kind of astringent love.
Occasionally,
Hit you with his rough hand.
You can always hold it high,
And then fall gently.
Fatherly love,
It's true.
Without flowery words,
It has nothing to do with this.
Fatherly love,
It is heavy.
Will not express directly,
Sometimes I think it's punishment.
But my father's love is in my heart:
The deepest mark,
The longest prescription,
I feel the most astringent,
Benefit the most.
This is a high mountain,
Be a child forever-
Under the protection of the mountain.