green
The pulse of your life
Instrumentally, it is weak to zero.
Anxiety turned into uncontrollable sadness.
Tears are sadness that overflows and bursts its banks.
I have it.
One minute, a poem praising maternal love, inch by inch.
Become cold and heartless
It's you, the hand pushing the cradle.
It's you, the hand that washed countless clothes.
You hugged the hands of nine children.
It's you, holding my hand across the street.
So thin, so slim.
Slim makes me sad.
Roll up loose white hair
You are very fragile.
Stand upright like an immortal statue.
In my heart
In the dusk of memory
On the gravel road in my hometown
This is your slightly bent figure.
It's your repeated exhortation.
Confess my lonely confession
Fold it into a small maple red.
Rustling.
In the wind with a little rain and a little chill, in poems praising maternal love.