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行走在路上,倏地一颗流星划过天际,我紧闭双眸,祈望能找到童年那个丢在泥泞中的梦……姨妈家在乡下,村周围的路坑坑洼洼,每到下雨时,那泥泞的路上便会出现许多小小的水洼,浅浅的。每当这时,年幼的我便会与小伙伴相约,在这条泥泞的小路上踩水嬉戏。我们的游戏花样百出,却总是离不开那一个个小小浅浅的水洼:踩水、打水仗……一群赤脚的孩子,快乐得像神仙一样。直到现在,冰心奶奶的那首小诗还烙在我们的记忆深处:小妹妹撅着两条短粗的小辫,
Walking on the road, a meteor across the sky, I closed my eyes, hoping to find the childhood lost in the muddy dream ... ... Aunt home in the country, the village of potholes around the road, every time it rains, that muddy There will be many small puddles on the way, shallow. Whenever this time, I will be young and small partners, playing in this muddy trail treading water. Our games are full of tricks, but they are always inseparable from the small, shallow puddles: treading water and fighting fights ... A group of barefoot children are happy like gods. Until now, Bing Xin’s little poem also branded in our memory of the depths: little sister with two stubby pigtail,