光阴荏苒,转瞬已是四年,再到姥姥坟前眼角依是模糊。春风肆虐,吹的让冬日遗留的枯草折枝。尘沙起扬,鸟飞云散,如不细看外人不会注意这是座坟墓的。没有墓碑,没有修整,甚至于没有了纸钱的痕迹和花圈的遮掩。它无非是堆土包,是座荒冢,是我最爱的人- -姥姥的“栖身”地。如此而已,倒也清寂。 Time flies, twinkling of an eye has been four years, and then to the eyes of grandmother grave is fuzzy. Spring breeze raged, blown to let the winter legacy of hay branches. Dust from the start, birds are scattered, if you do not look outsiders will not pay attention to this is a grave. No tombstone, no trimming, and even without the traces of paper money and wreath cover. It is nothing more than a pile of soil bag, is a blockless grave, is my favorite person - - grandmother’s “shelter”. That’s it, it’s all down.