In my now warm room,looking at the light from the sun,I seemingly come back to my hometown.

I remember that I often sit in the chair in the corner of our court.Sun is bright.Birds are singing.Wind is blowing.I am reading a book.Perhaps Tang dynasty poems.Perhaps classic novels.It is quiet.It is free.

Two years ago our house has been rebuilt,our changes into floors from tile-roofed house.Our house does not drops water when it is raining.Our house is not cold when wind comes.Our court changes more larger.Our house is coverd with tile.It is more beautiful.It is picturesque.

But high courtyard wall stops the sunshine spreading into our court.I can only enjoy sunshine in the corner.

My memory of our old house is deep.At that time,my cousins often comes and play games with me.I can clearly remember the scenery that we enjoy ourselves.

My female cousin teaches me to make paper ship,to make leaf ship.We walk in the fileds together.Point at this flower.Point at that tree.

The thing I can not most forget is that I play with my little cousin in the rain in the watermelon fields of our family.When we are tired.We go into the tent that my father builds in watermelon fields.

Finally,we all catch a serious cold.Then,we are all taken into the hospital.We all live in hospital for two days.

After our house rebuilt,because my cousins all study in college,,we have not time to come together.

Our home is good,but it is not noisy as well as before.

Miss you,my old house.

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