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Anonymous users2024-02-12"The Rhythm of Mother's Love, Let the Night Tremble Slightly".
A little moonlight, a long starry sky, and the night view of the suburbs is always beautiful. The willows swept the embankment, and he sat casually under a tree by the river, his thoughts flying gently with the slight evening breeze.
Gazing at the moon shadow in the river, blurred, scattered. Gentle words came from my ears, like my mother's advice, and I turned around, but there was nothing. Sitting in a foreign land, the loneliness of the night covered me.
I didn't grow up in the field. In the cold night, when I was reading under the lamp, I always missed the hot tea brought by my mother, and when I was half-asleep and half-awake, the quilt fell, and I always thought about whether my mother's hard-working hands would help me cover the quilt ......
The soft moonlight, the pale yellow light gauze pajamas that covered the earth, everything was so quiet, silently expelling the depression in my heart. The stars are scattered around the moon, which is a kind of happiness, and the little stars are probably listening to the beautiful story told by the mother moon.
I can't help but think of my mother. Her mother's education level is not high, but she has countless vivid and legendary stories in her mind. These stories have been with me for 14 years of my life, bringing me so much fun and sparking my quest for knowledge.
Most of the stories told by my mother contain profound philosophies, maybe my mother doesn't know, she just wants to give me happiness, but her simple ideas drive my leisurely thoughts and lead me to the road of writing--- what good writing material those stories are! Whenever the teacher reads my essay in class, I feel a great sense of accomplishment, not only for myself, but also for my mother. When I think about this, happiness lingers in my heart.
Sitting under the new greenery of a tree, I caress the scars of time. The flowers bloom and fall, the leaves of childhood have quietly fallen from the trees, and the flowers of youth have bloomed. Standing at the starting point of 15 years old, I look back. From the whew.
I am waiting to be fed until now, which is the crystallization of how much sweat and tears my mother shed! The love that my mother gave me was gentle, unwavering, and gradually processed on me, turning me from a stubborn stone to a jade. How many times have I made mistakes, and my mother felt sorry for me, but she was not as strict as my father, but reminded me in the simplest and most simple words, and kept putting good words into my ears.
How many times have I made progress, and my mother was excited about me, but she never told me not to be proud.
Picking up a little thought, I saw my mother's love floating under the night moon. Love is hard, and a mother's love for her child is a reward, and her child's love for her mother is a return. Love, too, is blissful, as is being loved.
Sow the seeds of love in the pure land of the heart, and in the care of mother's love, even if the dream is broken, it is still perfect.
At night, I am still very quiet, and I am still alone. But motherly love has sprouted in my heart. Holding on to love in the dark, I am no longer lonely.
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Anonymous users2024-02-11Every mother is a beautiful shell;
Every child is an ordinary piece of gravel.
Sand is not like iron, it cannot withstand the blow of calcination, and it cannot become steel;
Sand is not like jade, it can't stand fine carving, and it can't be made;
Sand is not like a tree, it can't stand the knife and axe, and it can't become wood;
Sand is not like gold, it is born to shine brightly, noble and rare.
But the shell refused to give up, and silently sharpened it with flesh and blood.
No matter how much pain there is, never say a word.
In the grinding, the sand gradually rounded, and in the pain, the shells are not beautiful.
Finally one day, people exclaimed:
What a beautiful pearl!
A miracle of nature!
The pearl looked back, and the tears fell like the shells of rotten wood.
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