My motherThere is a person, her face has been showing wrinkle marks, she is my mother. She has more than 50 years old, is a genuine rural women, although not in school, but know the importance of study. She is always concerned about my study, conscientious care me, tired, still want to see my quiet sleep will blow out the lamp on the desk. Remember that a winter, wind whistling, the village people call me and tell me you got sick, I felt like a raging fire. You are lying down, regardless of physical, weaving the sweater. My tears quietly leave, let you stop, you said, child, how come back. I don't mind, it's cold, to weave sweater, I want you to put on the new clothes ... ... Ah! Mother, I loves you, you forever is worth my respect!
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