Snowflakes floated in the sky again, fluttering, and it was filled with silvery whiteness. It seemed that the Queen Mother's delicate skin was blurred. It was like the back of the deceased relative. Three people were supporting them on the path in the snow. As they walked, they left a row of crossed footprints for the silvery white. The weather gradually warmed up. The tips of the grass buds sprouted some green on the ground, like the mother's hair. It was originally extremely white, but now the roots are actually a little black, but the hair is tender and soft. Although it is white, the hair is of great quality! It is also like the first time I was in spring.The tip of grass! The scorching sun is like fire, scorching me, hiding from the shade, like soaking maternal love, roasting and moistening, making me unable to extricate myself from this contradictory feeling, I am surrounded by this heat, and soaked by this dampness, making me not want to jump out of the endless maternal love fruit swaying on the branches, red, pretty, heavy, bulging, juicy, soft, sweet, and lubricating. The only memory that lubricates this fruit is the soft hands of my childhood, and I still leave endless attachment to the ignorant ignorant me at that time, which makes me still reminisce about it.