Original author: Zhao Huijun| Minqin County, Gansu Province
My impression of Zhao Jiatan today
Fallen leaves replicate autumn
A dilapidated asphalt road connects to Cunkou Avenue
Two rows of adobe houses from the nineties silently cling to the autumn breeze
Under the wall roots of the sun, three or five old people sat and chatted
The familiar streets have long been filled with the smell of empty decay
You can meet who is hurrying by between round trips
In fact, the young people and Zhao Jiatan are gradually drifting apart
The beauty of childhood memories has long since faded
Some sparse shadows repeatedly remind you that this is home
Silent old house
Maybe it's the nostalgia that has always been there
Every time I went back to the country, I would look at the house my father had built
The door frame of the street door has an ancestral end stone press top and a few copper coins
There are two apple trees in the courtyard that are at the same height as the eaves
Without the care of the father, these two years slowly withered
The old house where no one lives silently ages
Rain carved the sadness of the eaves
The autumn wind still remembers the deceased who disappeared
I just want to quietly look at the old house
make
he who
simple
seashell
Zhao Huijun, a civil servant of Gansu Province, a forester, likes to read in his spare time.