和墙一道矮下去的,还有那些岁月。静悄悄的,谁在瞩望。牵牛花沿着黯淡的时光默默地向上生长。一个闲散的午后,因为怀念,昏昏欲睡。一座灰色的庭院突兀地闯进我的内心,不是错觉,而是一种阵痛。窗外的风,几乎要趔趄,跌倒。你沿着那痛攀援,又滑落,文字已被磨损,面目全非。逝去的黎明又一次掉泪。记忆中,鸡声里的天光,我抱着油灯走向奶奶。牵牛花迎风而笑。那年,我十二岁,孤独 And dwarf the wall together, and those years. Quiet, who is looking forward to. Morning glory quietly upward growth in the dark time. An idle afternoon, because miss, sleepy. A gray courtyard unexpectedly broke into my heart, not an illusion, but a pain. The wind outside the window, almost 趔 趄, fall. You climbed along with pain and fell again, the text has been worn, beyond recognition. The dawn of death once again shed tears. In memory, the sound of chicken in the sky, I hold the oil lamp to grandmother. Morning glory windward smile. That year, I was twelve years old, lonely