Home, everyone has a home, just as every bird has a nest. But when a bird leaves its nest it will fly into the wide sky. Home is the bay, for there are parents in it. Though we are eager to create our own world and a field that belongs to us, even if we are given a pair of wings, we cannot fly out of the deep yearning for home. Home is warm, home is sweet, and home is stable. She may not be gorgeous, but she must be elegant. Every little bit of happiness, real joy, every moment can dress her up warm. She may not be rich, but must be filled with love and affection, a thoughtful word, is a thick family, thick to give. I think of home and family when I don't know. Mid-Autumn full moon, when the chongyang climb, leisure boring when in a daze. Home as a note, through the thick block of wood, into my ear, and by the ear into the heart. Home is not just a house to roost in, it is the warm stove in winter. Even lovers and friends have a difficult time, but home, honest and frank, tolerance you all, your domineering, your unreasonable. Home is a place of relaxation, making people feel comfortable and at ease. Tired, bored, injured, painful... You can find the space that releases in the home. Back home, listen to a few soothing words of music, sit quietly and meditate. You can also enjoy a fragrant cup of tea and share your troubles with your family. The person who has a home is always so attached to home, attached to home, attached to home, at home, you can be completely open, you can be completely trusted, you can be fully understood, we make home happy, home is enough to make us satisfied. Go far, home is the most beautiful possession of life! Home is the eternal harbor. The constant yearning is the eternal attachment after thousands of years. Leaning on the fence, my heart stores a circle of missing, if it will be like water dense, I think that the beautiful ripples, is my heart boat is light, pan-becomes a scroll forever poem...
