在我的记忆深处,一直有座老桥,沧桑,寂寞。以前每次来到老桥,桥那一头总有一个苍老的身影,在桂花树的衬托下更显沧桑。一看到我,她就精神起来,脸上露出孩子般的惊喜。她不停地招手,生怕我无法在第一时间望见她。她是我亲爱的外婆,我怎么可能看不见呢?然而这一趟回去,我真的没有看见她了。老桥依旧,却少了对岸的人。抚摸老桥斑驳的桥墩,我回忆起无数次相逢时的喜出望外和别离时的依依不舍。仿佛又回到了那个时候,桂花纷纷扬扬, In my memory, there has been a bridge, vicissitudes, loneliness. Before each time to the old bridge, the bridge there is always a old figure, set off under the osmanthus tree even more vicissitudes of life. As soon as she saw me, she was energetic and had a childish surprise on her face. She beckons constantly, for fear I can not see her in the first time. She is my dear grandmother, how could I not see it? However, this trip back, I really did not see her. Old Bridge still, but less on the other side of the people. Touched Bridge Mottled pier, I recall countless times meet and overjoyed. As if back to that time, osmanthus have triumphantly,