看了这首诗，二叔二婶们必须有感触吧# LeisureTime - 读书听歌看电影
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Evening
You’re twelve. Thirteen at most.
You’re leaving the house by the back door.
There’s still time. You’ve promised
not to be long, not to go far.
One day you’ll learn the names of the trees.
You fork left under the ridge,
pick up the bridleway between two streams.
Here is Wool Clough. Here is Royd Edge.
The peak still lit by sun. But
evening. Evening overtakes you up the slopes.
Dusk walks its fingers up the knuckles of your spine.
Turn on your heel. Back home
your child sleeps in her bed, too big for a cot.
Your wife makes and mends under light.
You’re sorry. You thought
It was early. How did it get so late?
You’re twelve. Thirteen at most.
You’re leaving the house by the back door.
There’s still time. You’ve promised
not to be long, not to go far.
One day you’ll learn the names of the trees.
You fork left under the ridge,
pick up the bridleway between two streams.
Here is Wool Clough. Here is Royd Edge.
The peak still lit by sun. But
evening. Evening overtakes you up the slopes.
Dusk walks its fingers up the knuckles of your spine.
Turn on your heel. Back home
your child sleeps in her bed, too big for a cot.
Your wife makes and mends under light.
You’re sorry. You thought
It was early. How did it get so late?
