I wrote my love
The most beautiful home landscape
Time such as water, Time flies like a shuttle. In the twinkling of an eye, years with years of taste, Shanshan to. Every festival, dear, the Spring Festival symbolizes reunion, a symbol of family cohesion, once in the memory remains much home beautiful and warm. Each to this time, home, he is a wandering outside the home the heart would like to. No matter how long the road home, the most urgent heart; no matter how cold season, the feeling of home is the most warm. Because the family expectations, a long lost affection, and the constant pull accent attachment.12ax7
My hometown is in the poem of Xi Murong, the Qingyuan flute, always sounded in the moonlight; home, Yu Guangzhong's novels is that a narrow steamer ticket, always calling you home. Accustomed to looking at the scene of debauchery or city, hometown of the fresh air; walk in the high-rise tower street, still feel home land territory; through the city lights wanes, the shining stars will always think of my hometown night; tasted from sour, sweet, bitter, hot, always miss the hometown that simple things. If I were a kite, a holding my line; if I were an eagle harbor, home is my rest. The bird tried to return to forest, the leaves fall down to their roots, home is always a dream home.
The years and extending in the mind, the heart accumulated romance about home. Still remember childhood, every spring, mother elegant apron touch dumplings fragrance, father will raise the red lantern, red couplets through a festive, the yard filled with I and small partners. There was no wrinkles his forehead, the mother's head has no hair, some just my smile be light of heart from care.
Light the way, walking swiftly years one after another coming, do not know from what time, the floating snow, dyed the white mother hair; the years wind and frost, the father's forehead wrinkles. How many deep, deep in the years to bloom; how many warm Dream beauty pro, in memory of the branches swaying. When I was young, their parents' arms, is my paradise; grew up, they are old are my melancholy. I think, will cut the time, young mother smile forever; I think, seize the time, father straight back forever. Fit a nostalgic, Thanksgiving in the depths of the soul wrote poems, time, would you please slow down, let me accompany worked hard for my parents.
Love has many deep, about how long there; miss has really, the heart is more urgent. A narrow piece of ticket, how many bears hope; a trust, not as much as strands of nostalgia. Whistle sound, is the home of joy; rumbling sound, the sound is home. The cold winter is long, can not stop my home enthusiasm; New Year songs and cheerful, also could not sing my homecoming joy. Even if the body in the world, the heart reads, is very close, even if the road again, also want to let the heart nestled in the family.
No matter how hard this year, regardless of the season there are many busy, go home, is more important than what. Whether you are a return fully loaded, still have gained nothing, our peace is the greatest comfort relatives. Even if the road is too hard, tired, tired, failed and what is the relationship, family will open for all, as long as the reunion, more precious than what, life is helpless, life is impermanent, whose life will encounter frustrations and setbacks, through the troubles and sad, in the face of failure, should choose strong; face the pain, to forget; know how to cut, can be relieved; don't let the heart burden, is home to the best loved gifts.Pieces Embroidery use
Go home! Home is home call the bank, you know, when we are together used in outside, is with the parents how to care. Our troubles, is mother's sad eyes; our happiness, is the smile on her face. No matter how far we go, always with a mother's care; no matter what we do, are the eyes of the mother's pride. There is a love, can pass through the numerous hills and streams; there is a touch, can be engraved with the sun and the moon cycle, it is the parents on their children's care, the warmth, even in winter, can melt snow and ice; the love, even in the desert, can also run out of flowers.
My hometown is in the poem of Xi Murong, the Qingyuan flute, always sounded in the moonlight; home, Yu Guangzhong's novels is that a narrow steamer ticket, always calling you home. Accustomed to looking at the scene of debauchery or city, hometown of the fresh air; walk in the high-rise tower street, still feel home land territory; through the city lights wanes, the shining stars will always think of my hometown night; tasted from sour, sweet, bitter, hot, always miss the hometown that simple things. If I were a kite, a holding my line; if I were an eagle harbor, home is my rest. The bird tried to return to forest, the leaves fall down to their roots, home is always a dream home.
The years and extending in the mind, the heart accumulated romance about home. Still remember childhood, every spring, mother elegant apron touch dumplings fragrance, father will raise the red lantern, red couplets through a festive, the yard filled with I and small partners. There was no wrinkles his forehead, the mother's head has no hair, some just my smile be light of heart from care.
Light the way, walking swiftly years one after another coming, do not know from what time, the floating snow, dyed the white mother hair; the years wind and frost, the father's forehead wrinkles. How many deep, deep in the years to bloom; how many warm Dream beauty pro, in memory of the branches swaying. When I was young, their parents' arms, is my paradise; grew up, they are old are my melancholy. I think, will cut the time, young mother smile forever; I think, seize the time, father straight back forever. Fit a nostalgic, Thanksgiving in the depths of the soul wrote poems, time, would you please slow down, let me accompany worked hard for my parents.
Love has many deep, about how long there; miss has really, the heart is more urgent. A narrow piece of ticket, how many bears hope; a trust, not as much as strands of nostalgia. Whistle sound, is the home of joy; rumbling sound, the sound is home. The cold winter is long, can not stop my home enthusiasm; New Year songs and cheerful, also could not sing my homecoming joy. Even if the body in the world, the heart reads, is very close, even if the road again, also want to let the heart nestled in the family.
No matter how hard this year, regardless of the season there are many busy, go home, is more important than what. Whether you are a return fully loaded, still have gained nothing, our peace is the greatest comfort relatives. Even if the road is too hard, tired, tired, failed and what is the relationship, family will open for all, as long as the reunion, more precious than what, life is helpless, life is impermanent, whose life will encounter frustrations and setbacks, through the troubles and sad, in the face of failure, should choose strong; face the pain, to forget; know how to cut, can be relieved; don't let the heart burden, is home to the best loved gifts.Pieces Embroidery use
Go home! Home is home call the bank, you know, when we are together used in outside, is with the parents how to care. Our troubles, is mother's sad eyes; our happiness, is the smile on her face. No matter how far we go, always with a mother's care; no matter what we do, are the eyes of the mother's pride. There is a love, can pass through the numerous hills and streams; there is a touch, can be engraved with the sun and the moon cycle, it is the parents on their children's care, the warmth, even in winter, can melt snow and ice; the love, even in the desert, can also run out of flowers.
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