#1 07/12/2018 02:19:01

ylq
Membre
Date d'inscription: 07/03/2018
Messages: 104

Night, so quiet, soft moo

Night, so quiet, soft moonlight sprinkled a place of silver; night, so deep, the father's snoring at that time is like a moving moonlight Wholesale Cigarette, echoing over the night. Looking at the father's face, my thoughts drifted to the holy night sky... When I was young, I used to be proud of having such a father Newports Wholesale, because he can tell many good stories and can pinch many beautiful ones. Small animals. Every day after school, I rode on my father's shoulder and shook my head like a triumphant little general Cigarettes Sales. The envious eyes of the students made me deeply love my father. However, as time passed and the age grew, this relationship gradually faded, replaced by vague inferiority and sorrow. This idea originated from filling out the file list in middle school. When other students were swaying in the ��Father�� column��the director, manager, and engineer, I could only write ��farm farming��. When I handed in the watch, I pinched the watch in my hand, for fear that others would see the joke. Ah, father, why are you not the factory manager, manager, engineer... The weather is getting cold, and my father said with concern: "It��s cold Cigarette Wholesale Online, wear more clothes." "Oh, I know." I did not care to answer. Raising his head, my father's old face and the worried eyes entered my eyes. My heart trembled a little... The night was still so deep, so quiet; the moon was still so round, so bright. The figure standing in the cold wind, I can't forget it for a long time... I only remember that it was so cold that night, and the wet air seemed to be mixed with rain. When the bell rang, I rushed out of the classroom because I was about to freeze. Outside, a piece of black scorpion, a few old trees with fallen leaves shivered in the cold wind. Oh, the figure standing in the cold wind: like Qingsong, like cypress... He tried to find it in the crowd, letting the cold wind pick up his coat and get into his trouser legs. It turned out that my father knew that I was afraid of black, and I picked me up like a child... Oh, the wind rose, the moon rose, and under the moonlight, I clearly saw my father��s face: high cheekbones, deep depression My eyes, dry wrinkled skin... Suddenly, I realized that I am a daughter who is not filial. Father, these years, you are obviously old, thin, can you forgive my daughter's filial piety? The moon rose higher, and the old face of his father was clearer in the moonlight Newport Short Cigarettes. Oh, love is deep in the heart.

Hors ligne

 

Pied de page des forums

Propulsé par PunBB
© Copyright 2002–2007 Rickard Andersson
Traduction par PunBB.fr