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ill the gentle and youthful mot from ylqylq's blog

When I walked on this road again, no one was holding my hand again, and I was no longer the innocent child. I grew up. You are old. When I grow taller than you, I still like to lie on your lap to listen to the story! You reach out and want to touch my head. I can stand in front of you, grow taller, and make your caress difficult. In your heart, I am still the little girl who wraps around your story; In my heart, you are still the gentle and youthful mother. Now, I am growing up, now, higher than you Newport Cigarettes, you can now lean on my shoulder instead of the same as before: I, hidden in your arms. Yes, I grew up. But I never realized: You are old. When your sweet smile is stained with time, wrinkles have climbed into your eyes, and the original beautiful smile has appeared, making me feel sad; when you are black Bright long hair, softly draped over the shoulders on both sides, now with golden dyes to cover the unstoppable and tenacious growth of silver hair; when the straight back, once carrying me through every corner of time, But now, like the old eucalyptus, the waist has gradually bent down Wholesale Cigarettes. Oh, I know, you are old. Looking back on the past fifteen years, how much sadness and helplessness does my mischievousness bring to you? No, you don't know. I always thought that your smile is the purest and clearest sky in the world. It is like a little bit of fragrance from the green lotus leaf. It is like the magical and constant power of nature. and I? I am like a white cloud, swimming slowly in the arms of the sky; I am like a red lotus, feeling cool under the lotus leaf of the fragrance; I am like the creature of all things, taking the nutrients in nature, you love to bring I came to the path of the garden side road, the seasons of various flowers bloom, the aroma came. You sit on the stone bench, the most love to watch me roll in the grass, play with the butterfly; I love to see your dark long hair fluttering in the wind. We wore colored clothes and shuttled through the flowers, like angels coming down. I love to climb on your back, bury your smile in your long black hair, sometimes naughty, and licking your hair, attracting a few smiles. You carry me, we walked through every corner of time, buried memories of fine texture in the depths of my mind. But how long have you been with me, my back has gradually bent, and I have not carried me to create more beautiful memories. You always smile and say that I am fat again Marlboro Red, and I can't move. But I also know how much I don't want to admit when you are old. Even though that is the fact that I must understand, I think and feel an unprecedented sadness and remorse. My mother is old, and I can��t go back in the past. Mom, I love you. When your face is covered with wrinkles, when your blue hair becomes white, when your back is no longer straight, then I will take care of you. I no longer rely on you, because I grew up and you can rely on me now because I grew up.
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