The sky outside the

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The sky outside the

Postprzez ylq » 9 maja 2020, o 03:27

The sky outside the window embraces the sun turning from red to yellow, and the yellow-brown sunset becomes more gloomy and sad as time goes by, like a plague, spreading in the dark clouds, buildings and vegetation. Only the old peach tree survived the disaster Marlboro Cigarettes, with pink flower buds, leaving bright and bright colors all the way. Under the peach blossom tree, there is a pair of grandchildren. Grandpa's shrivelled, wrinkled, and wrinkled hands hold the fleshy Carton Of Cigarettes, fair-white hands of the little girl, and look out at the peach blossom tree together. The girl said, "Peach ... peach blossom!" This sound is very strange, but it gives me an inexplicable sense of familiarity. In the spring of many years ago, it was also such a silent dusk. At that time Parliament Cigarettes, I could not walk, but my little heart was full of joy. I lay in my grandfather's thin arms, and came under this peach tree that had extraordinary significance for me. "Peach Blossom." Grandpa taught me. "Articles ... articles?" At that age when speech is difficult, only words and nonsense will always be forgiven by grandpa: "It's peach blossom." "Peach ... flower." Then, with a smile on his mouth, that kind face was like a loess slope, seven ditches and eight beams. Grandpa smiled, and I laughed, waving wildly the limbs of the baby that hadn't faded, like a turtle who couldn't swim, which made Grandpa happy to go to the cold, and it was a few spring and autumn. The peach tree still springs on time, full of pink flowers, and maintains its old age. After school, Grandpa took my hand and came to the peach blossom tree together: "Le Yan, what do you think of peach blossom?" "You have to read it before you know." I said. Grandpa picked me up so that I could see and feel the peach blossoms. I cared about the appearance of Peach Blossom, but I forgot to care about the sweat beads on my grandfather's head, and I forgot to care about my grandpa's illness. "Like a red face!" Grandpa smiled, the same gully as it was many years ago, just deeper, like staggered ditch. "Grandpa teach you a poem!" "Okay!" As soon as I heard the poem, I got excited. "This poem was written by Cui Hu in the Tang Dynasty," I nodded, and my grandpa continued, "Listen, 'Last year, today, the face of the peach blossomed in red.'" "Well, I will definitely remember "I have never heard of a peach blossom tree outside the window of peach blossom-related poems, and new buds have burst out; under the peach blossom tree outside the window, I know the joy of grandpa, the love that grandpa loves me, and I know" this year last year In the door, the peach blossoms on the face reflect red "; but I do n��t know that Grandpa is suffering from illness, and I do n��t know that Grandpa will die suddenly because of leukemia, or I will feel the melancholy of today" People still do n��t know where to go.
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Dołączył(a): 15 paź 2019, o 10:46

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