父亲的白发,是割不断的线,永远都牵引着我的情思。每当看到父亲头上的白发,我总是百感交集。夏初五月,小区里的凤凰树绚烂成霞,父亲总会驻足观看,拿着手机一阵狂拍。但生活的琐碎容不下他那点闲情逸致。作为家庭的顶梁柱,他只能为生计奔忙。人到中年的他,头顶稀落地立着一小片短发,这一小片短发当中还杂着几丝白发。时光流转,可他对我的爱,却从未改变。 His father’s white hair is cutting the line, always traction my feelings. Whenever I see the white hair on my head, I always feel mixed. Summer early May, the district of Phoenix trees gorgeous Cheng Xia, my father always stopped to watch, holding a cell phone burst of mad shot. But the trifles of life can not tolerate his leisurely part. As a family pillar, he can only bust his livelihood. To middle-aged man, his head sparsely stood a small piece of short hair, this little piece of hair is also mixed with a few white hair. Time goes by, but his love for me has never changed.