窗外有一只银色的夜鸟掠过,和我曾经的岁月是那么相似。这让我想起爷爷,想起那段往事,以及那种温暖。我小时候,父母因为工作的缘故,把我送到乡下住。陪伴我的是爷爷,他是一位和蔼的老人。记忆中的老屋,是一座简陋的楼房。灰黄的墙垣被雨水长久地冲刷,苔痕斑驳。挂着红春联的门前,青苔爬上了石阶两旁。庭院里,柿子树年年结出果实,繁星点点。我的爷爷,被岁月刻下一道道痕迹,日渐苍老。每天傍晚,等待吃晚饭是很诱人的。爷爷站在灶头前忙碌。他上灶烧笋, There was a silver bird passing by outside the window, similar to what I used to be. This reminds me of my grandfather, remembered that past events, and the kind of warmth. When I was young, my parents sent me to the countryside for work. Accompany me is my grandfather, he is an amiable old man. Old house in memory, is a simple building. Gray walls were washed away by the rain, mottled mottled. Red couplets hung in front of the moss climbed stone steps on both sides. In the garden, the persimmon tree grows fruit year after year, starry. My grandfather, carved a trail of years, growing old. Every evening, it is tempting to wait for dinner. Grandpa standing in front of the stove busy. He burned bamboo shoots on the stove,