我站在这岁月的一角,任夕阳把我的身影拉长,恍惚间又回到了孩童的时光,还在举着风车追逐向晚的斜阳,可转瞬却变成了岁月苍凉。故乡的夕阳是一段岁月悠长,也是热闹过后遗留的苍凉。黄昏向晚,微风柔软。那色彩亮丽鲜艳的油画,画满了向阳的葵花,像极了那一张一张孩子仰天的笑脸。拿着风车,追逐着童真的梦,一直追到太阳落下的地方,也不肯停下。孩子的身影被时光拉得好长,好长,仿佛孩子的成长。走过那些梦,走过那些欢笑,走过那些小小的骄傲……一轮又一轮夕阳,一片又一片昏黄,化成一抹小小的时光,见证了孩子的成长……记忆里的山坡,一层一层,一圈一圈,满是树木与粮的颜色。故乡的山坡像天梯一样美丽。山间的井水溢出来,一直流到山脚下,人 I stood in this corner of the years, any sunset to stretch my figure, trance back to the child’s time, still holding a windmill to chase to the late sun, can be turned into a desolate moment of desolation. Hometown sunset is a long time, but also left behind after the lively desolation. Twilight to evening, soft breeze. The bright and colorful oil painting, full of sunny sunflower, like the one that a child upstairs smile. Holding a windmill, chasing the childlike dream, has been chasing the sun where it fell, refused to stop. The child’s figure was pulled by the time a long, long, as if the child’s growth. Through those dreams, through those laughter, walked through those little pride ... round after round of sunset, one after another dim, turned into a tiny time, witnessed the growth of children ...... Memory of the hillside, Layer by layer, circle around, full of trees and grain color. Hometown hillside as beautiful as the ladder. Well water spilled from the mountains, has been flowing to the foot of the mountain, people