您细长苍白的指尖扯着针线穿梭。微弱灯光下,几缕银发不禁令我有些恍惚。我如儿时一般从身后拽住您的衣襟,只希望您能像曾经那般将我拥入怀抱。母亲,您总是一副温柔的表情,从我出生的时候起,您的温柔就尽显眼底……小的时候,父亲始终是忙碌的,母亲成了我们的港湾。那个有雨的下午,在路的尽头等返孩子归途的人是母亲;知道我粗心大意却总会将叮咛塞进鞋垫,把牵挂装进行囊的人是母 Your slender, thin fingertips pull on the needlework. Faint light, a few silver hair can not help but make me a bit trance. When I was a child, I grabbed your skirt from behind and only wanted you to embrace me like I used to. Your mother, you are always a gentle expression, from the time you were born, your tenderness is fully visible ... When young, his father was always busy, and our mother became our harbor. That rainy afternoon, the return of children at the end of the road is the mother; know my carelessness but always will tip into the insole,