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Poetic nature of cooking smoke
Smoke billowed from the kitchen stove, and the poem stretched with music slowly permeated the morning glow, intoxicated in the waking village.
The fragrant and sweet smell makes the morning mist of dawn no longer colorless. Cocks crow and dogs bark, and Ma Si Symphony leads a splendid life.
The notes floating to the green fields have opened another day of a brand-new life. With a rosy face, Chaoyang feels that cooking smoke is the pleasure I expect.
I want to show colorful clothes, my passion needs to be vented, and my persistence needs to be blown away by the burning stove fire.
Yes, when I was a child, my mother sent me to school with the rising of kitchen smoke and eagerness. Under the influence of kitchen smoke, I gradually integrated into the long river of life.
It is kitchen smoke that strengthens the bones of farmers and supports the eating and drinking of hundreds of millions of people. Without the company of kitchen smoke, there would be no pleasant hiccups.
I will never forget that it was cooking smoke that accompanied me through the ups and downs of growing up and helped me through the difficult swamp.
It is Chu Yan who skillfully depicts a gorgeous world with her rich thoughts.
Without cooking smoke, there would be no picnic heat.
Without the smoke, all dreams have long been extinguished.
Cooking smoke is my mother and a love song that understands life.
I can't bear to defile a sacred corner with turbid air, and I dare not forget the beautiful poetic purity brewed by kitchen smoke.
So I picked up a pious pen and copied it piously-a poem given to me by God.
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