A poem in memory of my late father

This poem in memory of my late father is as follows:

1, I miss my father

Author Yang Lirong

The drizzle is like a needle, when the peach blossoms are in full bloom.

Years are long and affectionate, and Qingshan still sends spring branches.

2. Miss your loving father

Author Yang Lirong

Continuous autumn rain welcomes dust, and a long life is full of hardships.

Cherish father's love every year, eager to see, few relatives.

3. Remember your father

Author Yang Lirong

Sixty years ago, I was born and raised, and I worked as hard as a proud young man.

Advise each other in a thousand words, and make yourself stronger with tears.

4. Chongyang homesickness

Author Yang Lirong

1999, I miss my hometown, chrysanthemums are blooming brightly and beautifully.

Mother holds a candle and sleeves, and father loves it like a mountain.

5. Remember your father?

Author Yang Lirong

Winter goes to summer, love lasts for a long time, and the wind and rain blow everywhere.

Come through thick and thin, come through thick and thin, and come through thick and thin to raise children.

6, don't dad

Author Yang Lirong

Travel all over the north and south and experience how hard it is in Hall 84.

Flying in the middle of the night, Longxiang Haoyu, the water of Sanjiang remembers the injury.

7. Remember my father?

Author Yang Lirong

Peach blossoms are blooming and willows are dancing in the green.

In the long years, love your father and respect your mother.

The fields are green in spring and the grain is golden in Mid-Autumn Festival.

We should work diligently to keep the house for our children and live a long life through hard work.

8. First of all,

Heaven and man are separated by five autumn and winter, and every Qingming, I think more.

We can still see geese in the coming year, so we won't meet at home.

9. second.

I've missed you since Tomb-Sweeping Day. I will pay tribute to paper and incense.

Filial piety is not as good as grass at the grave, and age is always there.

third

The weeds were shoulder-length in front of the grave, and my father went to Quantai for ten years.

At the end of the year, go back to your hometown for the Cold Food Festival.