Appreciation of prose essays: Dutch Dream

The curled-ear-like lotus leaves trembled slightly along with the thin and transparent cicada wings, slowly straightening the waist and plumping up the muscles. Xia walked towards me with her extremely thin plastic soles treading on the bluestone with crystal-clear spots. The lotus leaves seemed to be affected by the rumbling thunder in the distance, and the pond was filled with overwhelming sounds.

They murmured quietly under the flickering sunshine. There are always some naughty lotus leaves drinking the wine from the evening breeze and telling jokes all night long. The morning light of the Ming Dynasty ushered in the sound of the lotus leaves breathing to the sky. You see, the story last night must have been very interesting. They all had tears of laughter on their cheeks. I must walk through the border road beside the rice fields at this moment to pick the water drops that are more dazzling than diamonds and put them on my hands. As if this was the case, I quietly sneaked into their storytelling session last night, learned about their interests, and owned them. bring happiness to the whole world.

However, the little water droplets are more willing to crawl into the rice. Grandma always had a way of calling me into her arms. If I were a kite, the fragrance of lotus would be the unbroken thread that only holds me. In the early morning, I used my eyes to stare at the figure swaying in the dim light. The coldness of the falling rain pulled me tightly to the bed. The fire in the stove slowly simmered my memory and it would never cool down. The light and clean fragrance of lotus and the soft and sweet fragrance of glutinous rice fully stimulated my taste buds and sense of smell. Often at this time, I would jump up excitedly, barefoot, and jump to the stove with one foot. Grandma would always look at me with a smile and say: "Girl, how can you get married in the future if you are so greedy!" I made a mischievous face towards my grandma who was reflected red by the fire of the stove, pouting her onion pigtails. , holding hot lotus-flavored rice dumplings, sitting on the threshold, watching the rain flowers bloom and fall, enjoying the morning.

Now, it is late autumn, and the lotus leaves have fallen, defeated, withered, and turned yellow. I sat in front of the window and looked at the lotus leaf tea in my hand. It was green but not green, fragrant but not strong, and smooth but not glutinous. I guess, grandma, you are in another world, and there should be a lotus pond in front of your house.