我把浓浓的年味
                                                               关在家中，
                                                               不让窗外的雪雨
                                                               把它消融。

                                                               留下，一个守岁的夜，
                                                               将它细细地分：一丝丝，
                                                               飘向那河边等候的岸，
                                                               催醒那柳丝上一点点的白云。

                                                               等到，一个季节的交替
                                                               在春风里完结，
                                                               我的窗口会向着月亮敞开，
                                                               那时，年味还在，
                                                               腊肉的香就着炉上的酒。

                                                               一千杯，故乡的浑酒，
                                                               沉香弥漫中，
                                                               我的月亮醉了，
                                                               晕红了小屋。

                                                               我，
                                                               也在醉梦中，
                                                               在弯弯的船头，
                                                               随风悠悠…

                                                             (作者：曾俊)