The door is always open for me

ambrosine · Wysłany: Pon 16:54, 21 Mar 2011 Temat postu: The door is always open for me

weekend morning, Qiao Wan an essay on the computer, looked up out of the window do not know when the overcast sky suddenly cleared up. Golden sun shines on the people downstairs courtyard, the frost on the roof that melted in the sun, and showing blue ink in the Dai W canopies. Front of the vast landscape, the sunshine in the winter if the temperature has been palpable, giving a long absence of the kind. At the window, heart grew wings like a bird [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], fluttering straight into the sun to fly.
in this cold winter, the most precious than the rain and snow after this round of warm air rising sun, busy running for the day in, hard steel and concrete jungle of office workers , to the sun at the weekend to relax frayed nerves and drying was snow blocking the feelings of what would become the largest luxury winter of life and happiness.
called to mind the sun could no longer stay in the room, as if not to the sun sun sun themselves to live up to the warmth of the sun. About a friend on the phone, after dinner on the rocks to the Fengshan Park sun. After lunch, and friends reached the top, to the stone garden, garden stone bench, flower beds edge, all filled with the sun on the stone steps of the people [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], like the sun here has a huge magnetic field. Just roll out of the newspaper sitting on his mother received a phone call from the mother's voice across the phone as much as a few late condensate and look forward to: Since the beginning of winter, I only returned home once, or to get his mother to daughter to do the quilt. In fact, mother's house, from where I live not far, just ten minutes walking distance, streets widened, the road home seems closer. I have often overlooked, piece of rustic scenery on the way home, but chasing the pink Liulv elsewhere, often forgotten, really tall white walls and black tiles of the courtyard, there are people I'm guarding a hospital of the sun. Is climbing high temperature wading chasing. Across the heart, such as prick in general, formed the trace of light pain. Goodbye to friends, rushed down the mountain and took a taxi. Went straight to his mother's home.
out of the car [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], through the newly built concrete steps up from that way, far to see the door that the red paint peeling off the door open as usual. I thought a hot, guilt and regret once again the heart behind them. Into the yard, the mother is the clothesline in the sun on quilts, quilt flowers against the background of her mother's white hair, like cream. The water side of the courtyard garden do the steps, basking in the mother cut and paste for us to do the chili hot pepper, radish, and a sieve. I looked like a child-like mother back of greed, the mother of the sun is so intimate and alone. Mother saw us, wrinkled face, about stretch, laughing into the flower garden, yellow chrysanthemums, and hastened to get into the back room to give us fruit. Mother entered a long time, came out, the hand only took a knife to cut fruit, the mother standing in the sun made a daze, apologized and said to himself, oh, is you get apples for miles, but out empty-handed. My heart sank, my mother is really old. As the winter sun [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], though it is warm, gracious light power is down to the limit. I think the thing I read in plum writer of prose written to his mother light as a feather in the sun, it could not carry the winter frost. And we often forget the toil of a lifetime's mother, but also need to stretch tired muscles, relax nervous worked hard. Need more sunlight bathed her sons and daughters grow up, often home to see the sun with her lonely old age as the sun frost. We always seek the warmth of elsewhere, but often live up to the mother looking forward to the heart.
the mother, even to the inability to love, but it will always open the door that the red paint peeling off the door, inclusive in the debauchery of her often, lost its way and forgotten the children home. Bare tree behind the house holding as branches of the persimmon tree, quietly guarding a hospital of our sun.