When Winter Begins

When the night comes, I think of the stars and the street lights under the stars. At night, the subtle roar of cars comes from the street corners, which makes it even more quiet. The long street is lonely at this moment, but I can't see this when I write behind closed doors in the attic. I can only hear the voices of people on the street gradually subside and the sound of the TV in the hardware store under the attic. Also disappeared, I knew that this small town also began to rest under the caress of the night, and when I was writing until about two o'clock in the morning, I always thought of the winter in my hometown, the clear stars on the winter nights in those years, and the gorgeous and magnificent dawn in the east in the early morning before the sun rose.