By the pond side of the pond reminiscing about my childhood, there are always a lot of puddles, not the yellow calamus in front of me, the calamus is more like an iris, and that kind of puddle will grow a cattail. The gavel of that concubine is also unique to this world

Poolside reminiscences

Childhood by the pond,

There are always a lot of pupa seeds,

Not the yellow calamus in front of me,

Calamus is more like an iris,

That kind of puddle grows a gavel.

The gavel of the concubine,

It is also a delicacy unique to this world,

It's just that it grows in the water,

It is not easy for small children to pick.

Wait for the gavel to get old,

Can't eat,

Just smoke mosquitoes with its burning smoke.

Dark summer nights,

Not far away a string of Martian seeds fell,

Just know that there are small children playing.

Years later, one day,

Mother's face was blown by the wind,

The whole face was swollen,

The son asked childishly,

Grandma, how did you get ugly?

Mother laughed.

She washed her face with boiling water from the root of the puzi,

It didn't take a few days.

For another twenty years,

At this moment I am standing by the edge of the small pool,

Watching calamus sway in the breeze,

I want to invite you,

Bring this light into the door of my memory.