一缕斜阳洒进了半掩着窗帘的画室,错落的画板中间,一支铅笔缓缓滑动,簌簌地,伴着窗外的蝉鸣,勾勒出一个中年女子的模样,那是你,天使般的你。喜欢凝望着你削铅笔的样子,那时的我是全世界最幸福的孩子。昏黄的灯光下,拉开书包,海绵宝宝坐在笔袋上对我微笑。把铅笔一股脑儿全倒出来,自豪地说:“看,妈妈,铅笔又写不好了。”你走过来,拍拍我的小脑袋:“行,妈妈帮你削。”坐在小板凳上,仰望着你削铅笔 A ray of the sun sprinkled into the studio that covered the curtains halfway, the middle of a patchwork of artboards, a pencil slowly sliding, coyly, accompanied by the cicadas outside the window, outlines the appearance of a middle-aged woman, it is you, angel Like you. Like to look at your pencil sharpener, when I was the happiest child in the world. Dim light, opened the bag, sponge baby sat on a pencil and smiled at me. Pour the pencils all down, and proudly say: “Look, mom, the pencils are not well written.” “You came and patted my little head:” Mom, I’m going to help you cut it. " On a small bench looking up at you pencil sharpener