Hometown under the old banyan tree

## \”Hometown Under the Lao Banyan Tree\”

The century-old banyan tree in the alley is still greened, mottled The tree shadow was stacked with the time of seven generations. The deep and shallow deresses on the Qingshi slab road are the annual wheels that have been crushed by a single wheel, and it is also the footprint that Youzi repeatedly looked back when he left his hometown.

The rain shreds in the spring equinox are entangled with the new roasted tea, and the eaves of the blue tile white wall. The grandmother in the lane tea was still boiled with the phoenix single cluster with a rough pot, and the amber tea soup was swimming in the clouds and mist of Wuyu Mountain. The kapok in front of the ancestral hall was spicy, and it fell on the blue cloth shirt next door, dyed a few cinnabar red.

The cicada of Sanfu Tianchu understands the spleen of the old house. In the sunlight under the sieve, the rosewood wood eight immortal tables were cool. The neighbors always love to hold the thick porcelain bowls full of grass, squatting downstairs and talking about ancient. The old man who sells sugar onion cakes knocked on the gongs and passed, and the sweetness of sucrose was wrapped in the sound of the jingle, and the sparrows of the eaves were shocked.

The lantern on the Mid-Autumn Festival lits along the Matshi Lane, and the moonlight in the ancestral patio is thicker than elsewhere. Children holding taro crisps chasing and playing, and Grandpa used Chaozhou to read \”Yue Niang Guangguang\” in Chaozhou. The salty sea breeze wrapped in the sound of the tide drama, from the night of Han Jiang\’s end.

The new building has gradually started these years, but the roots of the banyan tree are still entangled with the old blue bricks. Grandma\’s copper pot was changed, and the pain of Caoyu was still haunting the tip of the tongue. When I was lost between the glass curtain walls of a foreign country, I always remembered the stormy paper lanterns in the alley -it used warm yellow light to collect the entire hometown in the lamp.

The roots of the banyan tree are lower, like the fingers of the rosary in the old man. I know that no matter how deep the annual wheel, I can\’t hold the nostalgia. Those who have been polished by the years will eventually be in the early morning of a tea fragrance. .tiaoimg.com/TOS-CN-I-AXEGUPAY5K/7F7A873EED9B4EDAB015195589A 07998 ~ TPLV-Origin-Web: GIF.JPEG? AIL & LK3S = 953192F4 & X-EXPIRES = 1739247055 & X-SIGNATure = hl7igvvoy5sjt%2byj30yrt3kljmm%3d \”/>

The ferry of Han River water back to memory.