时光是一川烟草的荏苒。那个窗口,一年比一年冷清了。我记起,从前,每年回家,窗前的桌上,总围着一桌人。打开窗户,菜肴的香味便四溢开来。家的味道也浓了。窗依旧在乌瓦下的粉墙上静默不语,只是红木雕花的窗棂,已不再崭新。曾经,那一桌人有说有笑,谈天论地。每个人都充满了幸福,连身后的梧桐树都笑了。窗口,那个堆满红灯笼、金元宝,还有一壶酒坛子摆在檐下的窗口,每逢被推开,我总觉得窗外有什么 Time is a Sichuan tobacco 荏 苒. That window, every year, cleared up. I remember, once upon a time, every year home, the table in front of the window, always surrounded by a table. Open the window, the smell of the dishes will overflow. Home flavor is also concentrated. The window is still silent under the black wall under the tile wall, but carved window mahogany, is no longer new. Once upon a time, the table was talked and laughed, talking about heaven and earth. Everyone is full of happiness, even behind the plane trees are laughing. Window, that full of red lanterns, gold ingots, there is a pot of wine jars placed in the window under the eaves, every time I was pushed, I always feel there is something outside the window