Written at the end of the year
Yang Jun
The four seasons are such flowers blooming and falling
After the last snow
Hurry away
If you look back, all you see is memory
The thought of a small bird turning into a big bird
Big birds get old
The mood is just like the old and the new
Repeated entanglement, repetition
And it was instantly pale yellow
Sentimentality as promised
Squeeze away the last dead leaf from the tree
Face the falling plum on the paper
I can only silently like, dark flames
At the end of the year, I am
Grinding bone-like feeling
Years of hurry and warmth, some goodbyes
Some prayers
It was still like the first thing I saw
I treat them as
Half happy or not
I'm in a dream or on paper
Seek February, but don't sit back and wait for spring
Oh, and the road hurried back
I returned to love and melted the snow and ice
The wind shook, the clouds were light, and the willow branches quietly turned green
The sun is the warmest benefactor of the earth
(The author is a member of Chongqing New Poetry Society)
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