The sunset smeared the sky, the maple was covered with long roads, the white hair stung my heart, the moon, the high hanging in the sky, the red cloud seemed to fall into the deep valley, and was burned by the black flame. Road, in the moon into a silver, into the snow ear is still the father's request for a walk Cheap Cigarettes, so kind, but so helpless, it seems to be mixed with a little sad. "Hey, hey," the footsteps of his father's weighing sounded in my ears. I looked at him and complained about the weather, and his thoughts were quickly brought back to childhood. In the impression, the father is a very cold-stricken person. He just walked out of the encirclement of autumn. He put on a thick war suit and fought against the cold in the constant trembling. We walked on the road full of red maples, and the cold and lonely moon hangs high, and the cold wind hits the surface, bringing the fragrance of the newly turned soil. He does not say, I don't speak, just walk silently on this road, is it father and son? It��s a stranger��s day, or as bleak as ever, only the moonlight piercing the black veil, reflected on his face, shining on his white hair, but also piercing my heart. The wind is still as stabbing as ever. Only the wide placket blocks the white cold wind Marlboro Red, but his clothes are not seen, but his white hair is disturbed and disturbs my thoughts Wholesale Cigarettes. The road is still as bumpy as ever. It��s just that the father and son are silent, and they fill the wind and whistle, leaving only the white trace. The white chill seems to be infected by the father. A chill comes out from the heart and can��t help but fight. A chill, my father suddenly turned his head and looked at me, kindly asking me: "Cold?" "Slightly." I licked my nose and looked at him, still shivering. Helpless, this wind is not going to go with me, rolling up a few maple leaves, flying all over the sky, is the winter elf roaring? Is the night demon yelling? I really can't watch the wind blow, complaining: "This damn ghost weather, how cold it is!" The father slammed his head and looked at me who was shaking again. After a smirk, he then said to me: "Really Like huh." Really like? ! we? ! I was surprised and looked at my father. He untied the cotton jacket and came to me. He put the cotton jacket on me, and straightened the back that was scared by the harsh winter, still laughing at me silly. I put on the cotton jacket unhurriedly, and inadvertently heard the sigh of my father. His words: "Hey, grow up, I am old, straight up the waist and you are not tall!" I sighed, leaning Looking at him, the bright moonlight floated on his head, and the white hair was stabbing me to look at my father. The vicissitudes of the face did not know how much wind and rain, and the thick arms propped up the whole house. The roots are white, is it whitened by the years?