Music is a very magical thing. It seems to have a kind of magic. When a song sounds, your brain will instantly recall some people, things, words or scenes from the past. Maybe you are meeting someone, something happened, hearing a profound word, or standing alone under a big poplar tree to admire the autumn sunset. Therefore, this song has a wonderful conditioned relationship with a past story. Whenever this song sounds, the past story will naturally be played back in front of you over and over again.
At the end of October, the air temperature was already slightly cool. Fortunately, the sunshine this Saturday afternoon was still warm and it was very comfortable to shine on my body. I picked up yellow leaves under a big poplar tree in the yard to make an assignment assigned by the art teacher to paint with leaves.
This poplar looks extremely huge in my opinion, as high as four floors. I don’t know how many years have it been standing here. The late autumn sun shines across the branches, pulling the shadows of the tree long. I don’t know what kind of bird chirps on the tree. When I look up, I see that the sunlight broken by the leaves shines black in front of people. Although it is late autumn, the leaves have not turned yellow completely, and many are still green. In fact, they are just waiting for a sudden cold wave, which instantly turns yellow overnight in the cold that people caught off guard, to prove the wonder of nature.
Not far from the big poplar tree is a boiler room. Several women carrying freshly filled thermos bottles walked slowly to the distance. Looking at the boiler room, a half-aged man named Wang, who was about 60 years old. Maybe because of a little hunchback, he looked very small, with an egg-sized tumor on the right side of his neck. He was very kind and greeted anyone who came to make hot water.
The sunset has dyed the clouds in the west purple and red, and the shadows of the big tree are no longer mottled. I put the picked leaves in a plastic bag and walked towards a white eight-story building not far away. A late autumn wind blew past me, blowing the golden fallen leaves behind me into chaos.
Time has never stopped its pace. The poplar tree that grew up with me has ceased to exist ten years ago because the developer built a building. Although it seems like something has been cut off in my heart, it is fortunate that I have not personally seen the scene of her being uprooted or sawed by people. In my memory, she will always be the tall and beautiful appearance of the late autumn season.
I still remembered that song, which made me miss the golden poplar tree in late autumn from time to time. Every time I pass by that messy construction site, I will look at that direction a few more times, and sometimes I will stand for a while. I know what I am doing. I am just crossing time to reminisce about my childhood. What they uprooted or sawed in the waist is not the big poplar tree, but my childhood, my carefree childhood.
I miss her very much!
