泼洒的笔墨

                            堆积成泛黄的叹息

                            留下了稚嫩的痕迹

                            崎岖的日子里

                            流淌着难忘的苦涩

                            散文的蹩脚

                            诗的苍白

                            小说的平庸

                            弯曲的独行小径

                            伴着清风细雨霜雪寒冷

                            浸润着花草绿叶

                            一起走过拔节季节

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