Nostalgic prose: apricot blossom rain

Figure: Source network

I fell asleep in a spring rain last night, and my thoughts were like the wind. In a bustling town, loitering is leisurely. Look at the apricot blossoms full of spring rain, but enjoy the grass color far green and not close. Why do you hold an umbrella and let the spring rain drip into my heart?

Every time apricot blossoms rain, homesickness is like orchid. My hometown is full of apricot flowers, which is my most beautiful childhood. I like to fold some red apricots and put them in my desk. My father's loving eyes touched my tender face. Let the childlike innocence flood in spring and the bees scatter all over the mountain.

In the memory of growing up later, I was as melancholy as silk. I gave up my studies because I couldn't afford the tuition, and my tears were full of apricot blossoms. Because my brother can't stand being poor, he wants to go outside. Young people don't understand the pain of their parents, and old people's eyes are full of expectations. The white hair on the temples and the wrinkles on the forehead are all thoughts.

Today is the spring breeze, and my thoughts are like a rainbow. I think the apricot flowers in front of the door will bloom in the rain at the moment. The lonely old house is empty until the flower season. The children have settled in other countries. But my father has become the rich soil of my hometown, which is our lifelong regret. This is an eternal debt to my father. If my father knew our happiness today, he would give up his lifelong desire.

In this quiet time, my homesickness is like wine. I think my old mother, who is far away in the northeast, will certainly listen to the rain through the window and see the spring in her hometown through the tall buildings. The memory of those apricot flowers floating in the rain is the most beautiful attachment in her life. So the years have precipitated homesickness, and the fragrance permeates the apricot blossom rain. ...