The bright moonlight in front of the bed, I suspect it is frost on the ground. I raise my head to gaze at the bright moon, and lower it to miss my hometown.


If the moon hasn't come yet, the lamp shines on the window sill, watching the gentle swaying on the ground.
What are you doing now? Every day is so tiring.
Where did you go? No time to wave goodbye, no time to say hello.
Farewell.
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