Some people say: love like dry land spring, nourish our hunger body;
Some people say: love like winter fire, warm the cold hands;
Some people say: love as the lights in the dark night, guide us forward direction;
But for me:
Love is our young naughty is trembling wicker,
When we stopped in the life journey is a spur to inspire us;
Maternal love is the soft embrace our students frustrated,
Let us also can feel the warmth of home in thousands of miles through the rough time;
Love is when we found that irritating chatter,
So that we don't get success in short because of the joy and lost myself;
She may not like his father, but a warm heart;
Maybe she doesn't like sweet like love, but love silent;
Perhaps she is not more than friendship like speculation, but take to one's bosom;
This is love
Mother put all the love to us,
Leaving only the gray temples and old hands, did not request a return.
I think, is brave to her say: Mom, you worked hard.

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