灯影里的父亲(外一篇)

• 作 者: 张雄文
• 出 处: 湖南文学
• 发表日期: 2016年12期
• 关键词: 冬夜 桌面上 半边户 孩童时代 鸣蝉 土砖 消隐 说不尽 一片狼藉 清风拂面

父亲点上一根香烟,刚抽两口,颓然歪了头,靠着绷硬的椅背又睡着了。香烟兀自沉默地燃烧着,烟灰带着父亲满头银发的颜色,寂寞地挂在烟身上,一寸一寸向过滤嘴挪动,倔强地坚挺着,终于折断,无声掉落在塑料布铺就的桌面上,像秋风里凋零于枝杈的枯叶,或者冬夜飘落在灌木丛的雪花。深夜窄狭的客厅里,父亲喜爱的中央台四套依旧喋喋不休地聒噪,观众却只剩下从遥远的异乡回家的我。我的心陡然一紧,鼻子一阵酸涩,悲怆像空气一

Father put a cigarette, just pumping two, slumped crooked head, leaning against a stiff back and fell asleep. Cigarette burning silence from silence, soot with his father silver hair color, lonely hanging on the smoke body, an inch inch move to the filter, stubbornly firm, and finally broken, silently falling on the plastic cloth paved the desktop, Like dead leaves falling to twigs in the autumn wind, or falling snowflakes in the bush in winter nights. Narrow narrow living room late in the night, my father’s favorite four sets of CCTV still chatter noise, the audience is leaving only my home from a distant foreign land. My heart suddenly a tight nose a while sour, sad like air