I understand the worship of the sun because of its mysterious color. The use of the sun is due to its value and the ancient concept that "things are rare", and the comparison of the sun is due to its seven colors of light. Many people like to tell their pain and bitterness to the stars and the moon. The moon and the stars seem to have found something, but I don't like the stars and the moon. I just love lying on the sofa, looking at the blue sky, looking at the sun set off by the sky, and silently pouring out my sadness. It seems to understand, hiding behind the clouds and crying (raining).
In my imagination, there is always a lonely old man standing in front of my heart. He talked to the sun through the window, or wrote poems praising the sun over and over again in the sun. A gust of wind may make him fall forever; A heavy rain could make him fall, but he persisted. Because, the sun is encouraging him, in his wrinkled eyes.
On the edge, there are still tears of gratitude.
I know the old man's tears, which are his true feelings.
Whenever the first ray of sunshine shines on the earth, only the street trees that have been waiting all night are greeted.
It is like a beautiful wish, with warmth, care and love, rising from the air and falling from the air. It moves one small step at a time, as if giving me happiness, happiness and eternal kindness.
In my blue sky, there is always a warm red sun.