The flowers are half in bloom and half in the fall. Just like friends who are on the road and love that has gone away; like the present and lost time, everything is irreparable, everything is empty and sighing!
When you are free, you will take stock of the past. So many once familiar smiles disappear into the vast sea of time; so many loved ones who were once within reach have left their hands. It is not that it is not cherished, it is the torrent of years that has taken away everything that has been.
Every time I pity myself in the mirror, my face is no longer smooth, my eyes are no longer clear, my white hair in the green silk is overgrown, and there is more and more tendency, so I can't help but panic. One day, I will be drowning in time. From the moment of birth, all the way stumbled, with curiosity about the world, with the desire for life, with the yearning for beauty, from the innocence of a child, to the vigor of youth, to the maturity and stability of middle age, cautious and cautious, more than forty years hurriedly passed, it seems that it has not grown up, but it has grown old.
Old age is coming, and it is time to admit it. Children grow up and are better than me, which is the happiest thing. What else can withstand the soft "mom" of my daughter when she is out of town and video with me? What could be better than a son who, though small, would take care of people like her sister, pour me tea and water when I was sick, and take medicine for me? What's worth it to have a strong arm for yourself when you're sleepy and confused?
I often go back to visit my white-haired mother, whose orange-skinned face smiles like a chrysanthemum every time she sees me, and her love for me is overflowing, making me pity and heartache. She no longer has the strength to catch up with the frontier of time, and can only count her bumpy life in the afterglow of the sunset. In another twenty years, will I be like a mother, looking at the sky in a daze, waiting for my children to return?
The flowers emit a fragrant fragrance that makes people intoxicated. The afternoon sun sprinkled on the balcony, warm and pleasant. I want to have a dream in this afternoon of drunkenness, about loving, about being loved.
Written for adolescent boys and girls
