The balcony in front of Poplar

A poplar tree in front of my kitchen balcony, four storeys high. According to the downstairs retired old man, that was a long time ago there was a bungalow is planted, cover residential building almost cut off, some people insist not cut it survived.

A few years ago I moved into this old building, surprisingly found a tall poplar was grown in the flat thick cement ground. The root is hard cement tightly clutching, a drop of rain water infiltration does not go, not into the water this tree, with roots deep into the soil, underground moisture nourishment, just stubbornly survived until now. I wonder when the cement ground why not to leave a little space around the roots! Then careful observation, found the tree scars, have three branches was being sawed off, the remaining three branches stubbornly to go long, trees and four floor balcony general high. I worry that this tree was abandoned, poor old Yang tree can survive the long winter.

The second year spring, the spring breeze blowing the green front lawn, roadside green belt of trees in the artificial watering, love full of vigour, be light of heart from care to grow significantly, the branches have begun to green. But the old ash tree still bare, gray, few branches stubbornly stretched upward.

Early one morning, a fine drizzle. I get up early morning, stand on the terrace and branches, found in front of the technical head a layer of green inadvertently. I at heart a pleased, standing on the balcony, gazing at the green trees covered with water, immerse the delicate fragrance.

The spring of this year, building the cement ground to tile, a farmer came to set aside a space around the roots, Yang tree finally get rid of the shackles of the cement ground, reborn. Midsummer season, green leaves bloom crowded on the balcony, swaying in the breeze. As my family sent bursts of cool fresh air, gladdening the heart and refreshing the mind. Shanghai qingumu envy to travel to visit relatives to say: “a tree is like an air-conditioner, so cool your home!” naughty little grandson every day with a drink bottle filled with water spray on the balcony, standing branches, so that the green juice flow leaves more cute. I felt moved, blame why not for Yang tree water, responsibility as point!

In fact, in the ordinary life has many good things, it is quite common for possession, be accustomed to, don’t know to cherish, once lost, only to find that her beautiful, too late to regret.

Quietly at night

Love, without sleep, the dew wet talk, if the night lights dim attachment. The silence of the night listening to the wind across the sky slowly, Miss silent hung in front of the window, such as the moon cut fill the love poetry. Each write crystal is a dream of hope, every glance flashes is a ray of warmth of love. You, as the previous promise, to phase v. brokenhearted and the love be passionately devoted, and hope that if the wind willow bank, flowers and rub shoulders with you.
A glass of red wine a fall of night!
The lights dim moonlight, colour, purples, bleaching and dyeing time not impulse, will miss drops of drink into the throat, cannot swallow desolate, choked with the stop the passage of time, emitting a strong bitter and temptation, will life packed into a few bottles of wine, drunk pain woke up, tears light, crystal night ambiguous and obscure, will be a wanderer. Heart entanglements with crossed the reality and dream, not the cup of moonlight engulf any breeze, shallow sing.
Light, split the night camouflage; glass, filled the twinkling stars. Hung in front of the window of the dream, the night light, warm through the glass window, scattered in the songs of TV wall. Mottled neon drunk dream reverie, wings to fly in the dancing melody is free.
The side of the road, the car’s engine, slow and lingering, seems to be on the night of the lyric, the lights emitted light, through the window on the roof, confused eyes pupil, micro smoke hazy, waiting for a bright month open dream. Quiet, faint sound of cicadas, with heart beating rhythm poetry affection, a crimson sky is that sweet, rich wine stained their night of passion. Gentle light daystar, drunk heart beauty night stop meteor.