Sun

While chatting on the Internet, brother Dong and I were sitting in front of the windowsill behind the desk, basking in the sun lazily. Brother Dong is a female poet, whose writing style is extremely good. He should feel my spare time, so he proposed to invite several pen friends to write an article with the same title. I am in the heat of the sun, so I said that I would write about the sun. Brother Dong said frankly that she would organize everyone and hand in the manuscript three days later. For two consecutive days, I was really unable to write. For basking in the sun, I can only say that I like it. In the four seasons year after year, I like the feeling of alternation, the wind in spring, the rain in summer and the cloud in autumn, while in winter, it is the warm sunshine. Brother Dong first wrote out in the space, sitting alone in the sunshine of the river, giving birth to a thousand years of emotion. Just after adding the heart of his friend to stop the water, he let a beam of sunshine lean into the afternoon of his birthday, and read the treasure of life in a cup of green tea. I became more and more scared. I only felt lazy when writing down the title. In winter, I would walk through a corner of a Leeward wall in a hurry. Three or two old men were lying in the sunshine, and I felt that the world was still. Maybe there will be a white lazy cat with narrowed eyes lying beside the legs of an old man, and maybe there will be a boy of three or five years old sleeping on the knees of another old man with a lazy style, the brilliant main color is a thick landscape painting without inscription. I have an idiot friend, who usually smiles without restraint, with a face of vicissitudes. Once, when talking about the topic of how to be happy in our old age, I told him that we were in the sun all day long in front of the haystack behind the village. At noon, we waited for our daughter-in-law to shout from afar: Dad, come back. I clearly saw that his face bloomed like chrysanthemum. Young people are watching the sun-basking people, a scenery, far away, very extravagant hope, but dare not enter. The people basking in the Sun are also watching them, a series of memories, light and nostalgia, but they have passed away. Only sunshine is speechless, whether you bask or not, I am here, no increase or decrease. Once, when watching a TV program, the host told everyone that we should calm down for a few minutes now and think about what our dream was in our young age. I thought about it for several days before I remembered it. At that time, I wanted to be a Chinese teacher in primary school or junior high school. I just want to lead my students to read the articles I wrote loudly beside the warm ridge full of sunshine. Suddenly I remembered a poem of the Sun written by a poet named Lu. She sprinkled the golden light on the flowers. She lifted the small trees up. She accompanied the children to play in the fields and watched them raise the happy spray.

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