There is a beauty called death

Lying in the arms of your grandfather, count the stars in the sky until you fall asleep.

In the evening, my stomach is bulging, I always like to be pulled by my grandfather. From time to time, I look back at the big shadow of the sunset, or look up at my grandfather’s golden beard, and then continue to squint. Lazily walked forward, listening to the songs edited by my grandfather, about my songs, that is the beautiful wish and blessing of foreign work.

My bad temper was notorious in my hour. The folks in the village loved to tease me, so my proud heart was always violated from time to time, hurting me invisible, but my grandfather defended me. My grandfather is my soul. He always said that the temper is the material of becoming a talented person. He will definitely make a difference in the future. He smiles at me and smiles and tells me.

My grandfather likes to let me walk on his knees, listen to stories, and experience the stories he has experienced. Sometimes his face will have a happy smile on his face, and sometimes he will shed two lines of turbid tears and pass his weather-beaten face. The most loving face in my life.

My grandfather's songs are always filled with my dreams. I have tried hard to piece together the fragments of these memories. I want to listen to the songs of my childhood, but I can't hear them. Now my grandfather forgets them. Now my granddaughter is right. This matter is also difficult to talk about, can only be accompanied by the disappearing melody, to fantasize the joy and beauty of Zeng Jing.

Occasionally, I will be stumbled by the stones on the side of the road, kneeling on the ground, crying and crying, but I will remember the words of my grandfather. He said that I am his pride. He has not read a book, so I have to study hard. To make up for his regret of illiteracy, he also hopes that when I am admitted to college, he will send me. Yes, pride, you have to stand up.

Perhaps only those who are crossing the horizon and disappearing immediately are the most beautiful. It is called popular. It is the sustenance of people's wishes to interpret the beauty of disappearance, just like the story of grandfather, the song of grandfather, grandfather. Golden beard.

Leaning against the window alone, staring at the night without stars, can no longer feel the warmth, smile and sleep.

The second day: Shang Keyan