湿漉漉的花瓣儿,在山村小径上奔走,草丛肃然生敬,恭立两旁;纯洁的李子树花朵,看得很清楚,扬了扬手,算是打招呼,它在风中低诉,将思亲忆情的故事纷扬传播;火红的桃花站立蒙蒙细雨中,对着人群说:“儿女都是父母亲的花朵,怎不思念亲人?”清明时节,我看见许多人同我一样,像一朵朵被雨水打湿的鲜花,满怀哀思。我仰视紫杉树的表情,在空中飞翔或站立树梢枝头的鸟们的眼里,已暴露无遗;紫杉树一阵接一阵地散发出的亲人们生前 Wet petals of children, running in the mountain village trails, grass awe-inspiring respect, stand on both sides; pure plum tree flowers, see clearly, raised his hand, be greeted, it is in the wind low v. The story of love spreads furiously; the fiery peach stands in the drizzle and says to the crowd: “My daughters are all parents’ flowers and I do not miss my loved one?” In the Ching Ming Festival, I saw many people like me, like Blossoming rain rain flowers, full of grief. I looked up to the expression of the yew tree, the eyes of the birds who fly in the air or stand on the treetops have been exposed; while the yew tree emanating from the burst of pro-life