Late at night, I lay in a silent room, the starlight outside the window was picturesque, twinkling at my distant homeland. At this moment, the night is chilling and cold, as if the years are quietly knocking on the window.
The curtains swayed gently, and through the slightly open windows, I seemed to see the forest sea in my hometown. The path there twists and turns, and it seems to be a picture left by the heavens. The old branches are luxuriant, and the fragrance of grass and earth fills the old locust trees, reminding me of my childhood frolicking and running.
And at the end of the path, a meandering stream shimmered like a silver ribbon in the faint moonlight. The stream taps against the stones on the shore and makes a pleasant sound, as if telling the story of the bygone youth. I felt as if I heard the laughter of my childhood friends, and it was the most innocent note of that time.
Snowflakes fluttered down from the sky like silver-white butterflies. Each snowflake is a unique memory that falls on my shoulders as if it were a warm embrace of home. I stepped on the softness of the snow, walked in the white world, and felt the joy of innocence.
In the light of the snow, I saw the smiling faces of my family, who were the warmest presence in my life. The sounds of conversation between relatives echoed in the night sky, like a moving melody, connecting the hearts together. And the person I love deeply, her face is clearer and clearer against the snowflakes, and those eyes are full of expectations for the future and deep attachment to each other.
Late night homesickness, this is not only the nostalgia for the geographical location, but also the nostalgia for that time full of warmth and beauty. I silently prayed that the path of my hometown would always be so peaceful and that my homesickness would always be so good. In the middle of the night, my heart is like that drifting snow, light and free.