Can not return to the once, can not return to the love

01.

The day, a shake, twilight gradually filled the whole life, and the sun is sinking little by little into the green hills.

Feeling the rush of time, unconsciously, the first half of life passed quietly, like that stream murmuring by, leaving only the most beautiful traces of what once was, recording those engraved past events.

Perhaps, that wisp of wind, a wind from many years ago, surprisingly with the once familiar breath, just quietly brushed across the face.

Perhaps, the drop of rain, dripping with the once familiar melody, so "drip drip drip" under the eaves, quietly and calmly under the ground, awakened countless memories of the past.

Perhaps the returning swallows are still the same as the swallows that used to be under the eaves, chirping as before, skilfully nesting in the grass, and warming my heart with their light and agile figures.

It's just that the flowers are similar year after year, and the people are different year after year.

The one that cannot be returned, the love that cannot be returned.

The years that cannot be returned, the warmth that cannot be returned.

02.

The village is old, in memory, it is like the old man in his old age, standing in the picturesque hill nest.

The bare yellow soil of the field paths, always potholes, is poetic: there are old farmers driving cattle slowly walking past, mooing in the morning air echoed for a long time; children are going to school, a smattering of laughter and passed, always with a vigorous vitality; swallows are hovering in the blue sky, sometimes flying low in The path.

Everything seems so quiet and beautiful, the pollution-free environment is refreshing.

At that time, the time was beautiful, although it was a brick bungalow, there was endless joy, there were folks gathered around, laughing, laughing, playing chess under the trees, and sunbathing peacefully, with a smile of satisfaction on their faces.

That is a simple world, the aura of the hills breeds clean hearts, there is only heart-to-heart honesty between people, and the warmth of the attitude always makes people feel comfortable in their hearts.

The warmest words are the call of the mother from the village head: Come and eat.

Day after day, year after year, my mother was always a beautiful sight under the crooked neck tree.

I witnessed her magnificent years, like flowers in the changing years, slowly withering, until her face was haggard and her back was hunched.

The love, warm as before, warmed my heart.

03.

Perhaps in many people's memories, there are countless classic fond memories: cricket, playing mud, jumping lattice, rolling iron ring, climbing trees to pull out bird eggs, down the river to touch the water fish ......

A scene of the past, a scene of the good, all as if it happened yesterday.

The fact is that the actual school has endless warm memories, just when you are young, you don't know how to cherish, you don't know how to honor a good teacher at the most wonderful age, and you don't know how to seize that brief time to immerse yourself in the sea of learning, leaving a sigh of relief.

I regret that I gave up at the beginning. If I hadn't let go of your hand by mistake, I wouldn't have been able to think about it all the time.

If it is not the arrogant heart, how can it stand stubbornly in the same place, unwilling to retain your distant back?

The first thing you need to do is to get to know the people in your life.

The one that cannot be returned, the love that cannot be returned.

The love of the hometown, the call of the mother is still in the heart, but no longer find the warm feeling of the year; far away people, love, no longer feel the warmth of your snuggle, can not hear the loving and lingering words.

The only thing I can do is to dream and go back to the most beautiful era and keep dreaming, not wanting to wake up.