That summer, I had been saying goodbye to the yellow mud that wrapped my legs. I slowly pulled away the fishing net and fishing rod. I stopped fishing in the lotus pond in the moonlight. The sickle was sharpened again and again. I held the rice heavily in my hand. What I held tog

2024/06/0714:58:32 article 1186

That summer

had been saying goodbye

The yellow mud wrapped around the legs was slowly pulled away

The fishing net and fishing rod

No longer fishing in the lotus pond in the moonlight

That summer, I had been saying goodbye to the yellow mud that wrapped my legs. I slowly pulled away the fishing net and fishing rod. I stopped fishing in the lotus pond in the moonlight. The sickle was sharpened again and again. I held the rice heavily in my hand. What I held tog - DayDayNews

The sickle was sharpened again and again

The rice was held heavily in the hand

Together

I am holding and the little gray snake

That summer, I had been saying goodbye to the yellow mud that wrapped my legs. I slowly pulled away the fishing net and fishing rod. I stopped fishing in the lotus pond in the moonlight. The sickle was sharpened again and again. I held the rice heavily in my hand. What I held tog - DayDayNews

The boy who is watching over the abundant harvest

My heart has been ignited by the summer wind

The hot stones of my hometown

The instructions are burned into the soles of my feet

This time

The journey of time

You must be strong Go for a walk

That summer, I had been saying goodbye to the yellow mud that wrapped my legs. I slowly pulled away the fishing net and fishing rod. I stopped fishing in the lotus pond in the moonlight. The sickle was sharpened again and again. I held the rice heavily in my hand. What I held tog - DayDayNews

Sanniang tremblingly

took out the rolled-up money from her arms

She scraped together enough for the last payment

The father said

There was nothing more to bring

The mother's eyes were red

She stuffed one into it and it was a bit burnt. The sweet potatoes

That summer, I had been saying goodbye to the yellow mud that wrapped my legs. I slowly pulled away the fishing net and fishing rod. I stopped fishing in the lotus pond in the moonlight. The sickle was sharpened again and again. I held the rice heavily in my hand. What I held tog - DayDayNews

These soft and white clouds

in front of the house

I want to pack you into my luggage

Countless sleepless nights in a foreign land

Pillow with you to dream back to

That summer, I had been saying goodbye to the yellow mud that wrapped my legs. I slowly pulled away the fishing net and fishing rod. I stopped fishing in the lotus pond in the moonlight. The sickle was sharpened again and again. I held the rice heavily in my hand. What I held tog - DayDayNews

The dewdrops on the gardenia have turned into a crystal bowl on the tip of my heart

Nostalgia

That summer, I had been saying goodbye to the yellow mud that wrapped my legs. I slowly pulled away the fishing net and fishing rod. I stopped fishing in the lotus pond in the moonlight. The sickle was sharpened again and again. I held the rice heavily in my hand. What I held tog - DayDayNews

The village in July

The boy who transplanted the rice has turned around

The rice is the line of poetry left on the field

The soil is the rhyme

The endless cicadas and frogs

In the burning July

Singing in a low voice

That summer, I had been saying goodbye to the yellow mud that wrapped my legs. I slowly pulled away the fishing net and fishing rod. I stopped fishing in the lotus pond in the moonlight. The sickle was sharpened again and again. I held the rice heavily in my hand. What I held tog - DayDayNews

A half-life dream

Return Are you still a teenager?

Weeds cover the door

Childhood friends scattered at the end of the world

In the familiar night

My loneliness

On the familiar path again

Fireflies Like stars in the sky

Flashing and flickering

That summer, I had been saying goodbye to the yellow mud that wrapped my legs. I slowly pulled away the fishing net and fishing rod. I stopped fishing in the lotus pond in the moonlight. The sickle was sharpened again and again. I held the rice heavily in my hand. What I held tog - DayDayNews

#After 70##Poetry##Toutiaooriginal#

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