Prose Poems Written by Xu Fei's Father (Times Edition)
These crops were not harvested in 1984.
My daughter is lying in my arms, sleeping so soundly.
There is no time to see an open-air movie tonight.
My wife reminded me to repair the pedal of the sewing machine.
I'm going to borrow more money from my neighbor tomorrow.
The child cried all day, clamoring for biscuits.
The blue polyester coat broke my heart.
Squatting by the pond, I punched myself twice.
This is my father.
The words in the diary
This is his legacy from his youth.
Prose poems left behind
Decades later, I watched the tears flow.
But my father is old.
In 1994,
The crops have been harvested.
My old mother died last year.
My daughter ran into the campus with a ponytail.
But she has been a little lonely recently and lost a lot of weight.
Think about the future.
I will always be a pile of old paper money.
Daughters at that time will be very beautiful.
A man who loves her wants to take her home.
But I can't bear to look at her when I think about it.
This is my father.
The words in the diary
This is the legacy of his life.
Prose poems left behind
Decades later
I watched the tears flow down.
But my father is as old as an old newspaper.
old newspaper
The story above is a lifetime.