1, mother:
My mother, like the sun in winter, will encourage me, comfort me and warm my heart when I encounter setbacks. Mom, mom is like a bright light in the dark. When I lose my way, she will guide me, illuminate me and walk towards the light. Mom, mom is like the bright moon on an autumn night. When I am lonely and helpless, she will accompany me, support me and give me full confidence. Mom, she is busy for me all day, with no regrets. So, on this annual Mother's Day, I want to say thank you, Mom. I love you.
2. I want nothing more:
I only ask Jesus, I have no hope, I only look forward to Jesus, I have no admiration, I only admire Jesus, I have no choice, I only choose Jesus, Jesus, my heart is satisfied and rich, Jesus, my heart is full of me, my heart is sweet and enjoyable, Jesus, Jesus, my heart is eager to wait, please live in my heart forever and ever.
3. In my opinion:
There is an unfathomable place that no one has ever asked. You are the fire of hope, illuminating my future and giving me hope. Every dark night, I care about you. Every cold night, you give me endless warmth. It is raining in the sky, and every drop of rain is telling.
Your pale fingertips touched my temple, and I couldn't help grabbing your skirt as I did when I was a child. My mother tried to keep your faded figure. Although the morning light has cut my dream into wisps of smoke, I still dare not open my eyes for a long time. I still cherish that bright red scarf, for fear of losing your unique warmth after washing it. Isn't the running water of mother's years just as ruthless, afraid of fading memories?
How dare I open its screen easily? I cried to you for a thorn. Now wearing a jingguan, I dare not moan. Mom, I often look up at your photos sadly. Even if I call to penetrate the loess, how dare I disturb your sleep? I dare not show the sacrifice of love like this. Although I wrote many songs for flowers, the sea and the dawn, my sweet and profound memory is not a torrent, a waterfall or a dry well that flowers and trees can't sing.
4. mom, mom:
Your silver hair, rickety body, lonely figure, you are old. You are interacting with neighboring villages. You are 80 years old, and you still fetch water and cook by yourself. You still cling to my childhood dream hometown. It is the pride of your life to raise our four children all your life. The pigeon you let go is the concern of your life and the hope of survival. Every time I mention being nice to people, I always have a smile on my face. How can a mother who has gone through hardships write thousands of words with a blunt pen?