儿时
                                                                           家里有爸有妈，
                                                                           不管吃啥我总是老大。
                                                                           无论到哪，
                                                                           都有一匹驮着我前行的马。
                                                                           就算雨天屋漏的雨花，
                                                                           也让我觉得是富贵荣华。
                                                                              
                                                                            直到有一天
                                                                            妈妈说你长大了还要结婚，
                                                                            可那是我连情感还未萌发。
                                                                            他们却为了十几年后的我
                                                                            从此各自天涯。
      
                                                                            爷爷奶奶便成了我现任的“爸妈”。

                                                                             每年到头的相聚，
                                                                             就像是牛郎与织女的佳话。
                                                                             每次分别的时候，
                                                                             我都成了一朵带雨的梨花。
                                                                             家里那台掉了漆的电话，
                                                                             不知喝了多少我儿时的泪花。

                                                                             可十几年过起了，
                                                                             我还没结婚  他们也没有回家。

                                                                             东边自留地里多了一个坟头，
                                                                             那便成了爷爷的家。
                                                                             爷爷走了，
                                                                             只留下那把带着鼻涕的铁锹把。
                                                                                
                                                                             瞧！
                                                                             天空又飘起了岁末的雪花，
                                                                             可北疆的列车不知何时才能到达。

                                                                             该去哪？
                                                                             回家?
                                                                             可家里没有爸妈！
                                                                             不, 不!
                                                                             还是要回家，
                                                                             家里还有地锅门口卧着取暖的猫咪，
                                                                             和那在桌底下摇着尾巴乱叫的狗娃。
                                                                             噢！
                                                                             一定要回家！
                                                                             回家看看我那步履蹒跚的“妈”！