Bing Xin's Paper Boat
I never throw away a piece of paper,
Save it forever.-save it.
Fold into a boat,
Throw it into the sea from the boat.
Some were blown into the window of the ship by the wind,
Some are wet by the waves and stick to the bow.
I still don't give up and fold every day.
I always hope that a place can only flow where I want it to go.
Mom, if you see a small white boat in your dream,
Don't be surprised that it dreams for no reason.
This was folded by your beloved daughter in tears.
Wan Shui Qian Shan, please carry her love.
And sadness.
Eternal mother
When I first opened my newborn eyes.
The first thing I saw was the incomparable holiness of my mother.
Love eyes and tears of joy-
Staring at you without blinking an eye.
Your hazy and ignorant heart beats instinctively
But I can't express my feelings, just dancing around.
I am so anxious that you can't help crying loudly.
After many days and nights of cultivation
Sit up straight at last, your little body.
After adjusting EQ and IQ
Never wait, shout out life.
The most precious first sound-mom
This is the most touching original moral.
No matter how many languages there are in the world.
Only this cry is absolutely the same.
No music, no poetry.
It can be more touching than this.
A traveler's song
The mountains are unwilling to send away the sunset.
Affectionate sailors are unwilling to sail.
Hope is calling.
The outside world is my paradise,
A free heart is flying.
Mom, do you care about me?
Mother looked at me uneasily.
Mom, do you want my life to be more exciting?
Mother looked at me with relief.
Listen to the sound of train air, flute …
Holding hands tightly through the window.
Motherly love prose
My masterpiece (Perfect Sunny Day) mentioned that I want to fly, but my heart is so tired.
I don't know when, young hearts are always eager for independence. How many times, I tried to escape from the shelter of my parents' wings, open up a thorny road alone, and sharpen my wings in the wind and rain.
Perhaps, God discovered my greed and let me enter this full-time high school, and finally I can get rid of my mother's nagging.
The tall teaching building, the carefree canteen, the crowded supermarket and the strange faces all make me novel and excited. However, when everything is familiar, an unbearable loneliness and emptiness occupy my heart. Heavy study makes me feel depressed and dull, and my weak body makes me feel groggy all day. I feel very uncomfortable and want to go home once, but the lofty aspirations of the past made me endure.
Autumn seems to come early, and I feel a chill as soon as I enter autumn. The cold wind of rustling blows aimlessly, making the window sing along with the gap.
I sat in my seat reading a magazine and saw an article about maternal love, which reminded me of my mother. ...
I used to study late at night. At this time, my mother will serve my favorite mung bean soup, look at me kindly and finish the soup bite by bite. Then make my bed and advise me to go to bed early; Sometimes I get angry outside and lose my temper in front of my mother. My mother never cares, but comforts me and makes me feel better. Early times ...
Only then can I realize the beauty of nagging. Those annoying words in the past are so warm in retrospect.
"Bell-"The bell interrupted my thoughts. I quickly came to the telephone booth and dialed my home phone number. Mother's kind voice came from the other end of the phone.
"Hello, who are you looking for?"
"Mom, it's me." I whispered.
"* *, how are you at school? Be careful whether you are in good health or not. It's cold now, pay attention to adding clothes. Are you used to eating? ..."
"Well, everything is fine ..." I said and cried.
Once, I thought I was a person who would not be emotional or shed tears. However, in front of my mother, I shed tears openly.
On weekends, sitting on the bus home, I feel particularly cheerful. I realized that no matter how far I fly, I will never leave my mother's sight like a kite.
Mother is a thread tied to my heart. The longer and farther you pull, the more painful your heart will be.