"The line in the hands of a loving mother, the clothes of a wandering child..." Whenever I read a poem like "wandering son chanting", I always think of my mother. My mother is a businessman, and she often runs around for the business in the shop, but this is also for me. Busy mother, in order to support her family in the daytime, plays against the sun or the wind and rain. At night, she should have had a rest in the day, but she used most of these time to help me with my lessons. In order to improve my performance, she will go to a good university in the future and grow up to be a useful person. I remember that one night, I had gone to bed and found that there was still a light in my mother's room. I went over curiously. From the crack of the door, I saw that my mother was holding a needle to mend my broken pants. My mother's back was bent and stitched carefully. I can't help but shed tears when I see here. When I went back to my bed, I thought of what scene I had just had. It was a good mother who loved me and hurt me.
写到这里,我的心里象打翻了醋,酸酸的,我的笔颤动着,又禁不住流下了眼泪。我为有一个爱我的爸爸和妈妈而快乐无比。
Write here, my heart like overturned vinegar, sour, my pen is quivering, and can not help but shed tears. I am very happy to have a father and mother who love me.
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