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On the twelfth day of the winter month of the lunar calendar, the night is getting deeper, there is no sleepiness, the cold moonlight shines on the windowsill, the wind gently caresses the ends of my hair, and the thin figure falls in the lonely alley.
The moon is bright and dark in the night sky, the dark clouds obscure my vision of my hometown, the stars have turned into tears in my eyes, and I can't write good words in my pen, only pale, speechless, and sad!
Taking advantage of the blur of this night, I looked for the blooming winter plum in the moonlight, but I couldn't see his appearance clearly!
A mellow and rich tea, bitter with a sweet aftertaste, the cold moonlight reflected on the thin curtain like cicada wings, and the pot of pothos on the desk is still green and shiny!
Twist a faint sorrow, write a few poems full of heart at night, time is imprinted on the title page of the book, and the fragrance of ink wafts into the distance!
The clouds on the horizon are drifting, and the fragrance of plum blossoms faintly comes in the night sky, and I am chasing hard with the starlight all the way, just to embrace your kind and gentle appearance!
Postscript, today my old father has been away from me for two whole months, my mind is full of images of my father, I wrote this article at four o'clock in the morning, thank you for reading!
2023.12.25 early morning
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