Homesick

The moon in my hometown is a lamp that never dims in my heart. As night falls, the silver moonlight is like an invisible line, crossing thousands of rivers and mountains, tightly connecting my heart with my hometown. I can almost see the old locust tree in front of the old house, casting mottled shadows on the ground under the moonlight. As a child, I used to laugh and chase in that tree shadow. Now in a foreign land, the moonlight still shines, but the appearance of my hometown can only be found in my memory. My longing surges like a tide in my heart.