You sit on the shelf from the twilight, and see the wind to blow the yellow leaves. Rotate, rotate, rotate ... then go downstall
. Place printed silent footprints. Sunched <: 00/2: 38 male house old house with color memories. Cold moss steps, remember to step into the footsteps
The early elderly tree still remained incense, waiting for the skinny finger to bring it to the incense for a cup of tea soon the waves of the waves. The facial folds are gentle. Somewhere cruise the cough when the wind moves the season. Night down. Half a moon tilted, hanging down. Why is she shimmering, trembling lightly. Some clouds do not know the shaped shape on the pale surround dome as deep as tears from the depths of mind. Your shoulders kept shaking every time it was died of the labor accident, when you were a second school. Mother takes care of me, keeping you everyone. When Mr
Sun has not yet stumbled, she bursted on stuffs across the river, buckling with a bowl of rice, a shirt for you to learn enough. Temple of merit, you successfully, have a large high house in the city. You want to pick up my mother to come in but your mother definitely stays in the countryside to spread her husband and ancestors. Mother is not far away from your child's house. The more you don't have to cover the leaves. Every day she was still sunshine, with dew on the green field, on the old old garden. And quietly leaning on the door of the children on every weekend, then sending a labor result to the child to bring to the city. Then, the day of the day passes, I followed my father to another country. Only you sit on the absence. Alept to hear the sweet ru ru of mother moon nights. Craved to get a warm bracelet loving every time tired. Craved tea cups of tea. Cravings are cooked for moms delicious meals. Cravings are brushed with her mother on the shelf every day ... sitting with you under the silver light by the moonlight, the midst of the Vu Lan's day space is approaching, I suddenly thought about the dates forgetting on the injured stream Love, sweet sweetness of mother love. The days of the days of drifting according to the rotation of the work and the time for every time he visited my parents. The wrinkles according to the day of the day of the road to the road to raise their children, quietly follow each other on the face of his mother's oil. If your parents still live twenty years, only twenty times of fondness. But with many parents can live in this world about 10 years or even even more short ... I don't dare to think. Hesitation, may lose the opportunity. The moon is still playing with the middle of the sky. A few days, the moon will be round. Then it will be lost. Will dive. And will grow. The monks. As a death is a law in life. The sky is still afraid. White clouds cautiously remind silver-colored hair. I loudly my skilled light, to return to the house. There, there was a shadow of my parents algae in the early day, I went back to love ... Vacation of Thu Huong . Dịch vụ:
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