The raucous sound of cicadas outside the window is scarce, and the breeze occasionally rolls a few orange-colored fallen leaves into the house, and the light-orange sunlight always lazily caresses the earth at noon, and the summer has fallen asleep shallowly without realizing it.
It always rains a little at night. At first it's fine and dense, then it gets heavy - and then it stops. It only leaves a little bit of cool wind blowing into your still-unsettled heart. By the next day, there was no trace of it, as if it had never come. The sun was still pale, with no trace of having been washed by the raindrops, and it seemed as if the misbehaving doll of summer had awakened from its nightly nightmare, but was soon asleep again, soothed by its mother.
I have remembered my mother in the dreams of countless summer nights, recalling the familiar and unfamiliar faces of former classmates, and the clear smile of my mentor gradually blurred in tears. In the place where I grew up, I have spent many summer nights with him (her) soaked in tears and filled with beautiful dreams!
The rain is already the rain of early fall; the night is only the night of early fall. Looking through the window at the main road, those cloaked in silver frost tree, from time to time will shake down a few pieces of vicissitudes of the leaf, issued a "rustle" heavy sigh. Just the early fall ah, will take away the whole summer of the lively and joyful. The grass on the new campus playground is also gradually "white" with hair, unknowingly, I have been studying here for nearly two months.
I don't know, the grass in the elementary school garden is also in the autumn song of sadness in the white hair; I don't know, the enlightenment teacher ushered in whether it is like the same as we once had, with the naivety of spring and summer enthusiasm of the children.
I still remember the day of the opening of the school, grandmother's home gardenia is always that. Green and verdant, gently dancing in the midday sun. Today, when I suddenly thought of her, I found her shivering in the corner, covered with a layer of straw for warmth. "It's only early fall, I'm afraid I won't make it through this winter." Grandma sighed. Tears suddenly and inexplicably welled up in my eyes, was it the fall wind that made me sentimental? Is it for me, or for the flowers?
The summer is asleep, and the golden sunshine of summer is asleep with it. Some people say that autumn is golden; some people say that childhood is also golden. In fact, the two of them are not like each other at all; the gold of autumn is the sunset, in the sunset we harvest maturity; the gold of childhood is the sunrise, in the sunrise, we sow innocence and happiness. I prefer summer, because the golden sun of summer is more like my brilliant childhood and childhood mentor and partner smile.
Summer ah, I call you, how I hope you can wake up, but also wake up my summer in the "June 1", back to my precious time in elementary school.
Summer, really sleeping. I walked quietly, stepped on the ground sparse leaves, ear no cicadas and birds chirping. The weather is getting cold, I also put on a thin sweater. The first thing I want to do is to get a good deal of money from the government, and I'm not sure if I want to do that, but I want to do it.
In the fall wind, in the summer sleeping days, we wait for its awakening, through the fall, winter and spring, we will usher in a new summer.