i want to hold your hand
In my dream, I don't know how many times, those old and wrinkled hands seem to tell the life of the weather-beaten master. But those hands are still strong, and the turquoise blood vessels are faintly visible, which makes people feel the tension of life. Countless times, how I wanted to hold these hands, but it was all in my dream.
It is another drizzly late autumn, and the wet phoenix tree at the foot makes a sound, low. The drizzle blurred my vision a little, but I vaguely saw those vigorous and tall characters "Du Fu Caotang." I was ecstatic and quickened my pace. The dream hand clearly emerges in my mind, and the owner of those hands is like a magnet, which attracts me deeply and strongly.
How I want to hold your hand! Let me feel this magic hand. How many ancient texts have been written in this handwriting! How many poems were born in this hand! The bottom of the pen is turbulent and the people are suffering; The world is scarred, and the poet is a saint. Isn't this your portrayal? I remembered that sentence. "Between Andrew's mansion and 10 million rooms, poor people all over the world have a happy face. Alas, suddenly seeing this house in front of me, it is enough for me to freeze to death alone! " Countless people were moved, moved. What a broad mind this is. What kind of heart is this? Let me hold your hand and touch the turquoise blood vessels.
Yes, I am eager to hold your hand, let me smooth wrinkles and bring a little temperature to those cold hands. People say, "Poverty is the only way to protect yourself, and prosperity is the best way to help the world." Is that so? You are a counterexample. Life is bumpy, my career is full of disasters, and I am down and out, but I always have ordinary people in my heart. When it's cold, you want to cover the whole world with iron pillows; When you are hungry, you want to feed the Lebanese people with rice. When your son died of hunger and cold, I saw your feelings tremble. When I witnessed the suffering of the people, I saw your heart tremble. Let me hold your hand. Are those cold hands still cold? Are those hardworking hands wrinkled?