That night after I turned off the light I was going to sleep. But suddenly I found that it was remarkably bright outside. More street lamp there? That is not a good explanation. That light was different. It was soft, kind of transparent silver, like the reflection of moonlights on the faces of rivers, just with the twinkling pieces joining together. Oh! The moon? I walked towards the window and looked outside. Yes, it was the moon---a bright full moon, hanging on the light blue sky, spilling her tender light everywhere, and calling me. (来源：老牌的英语学习网站 http://www.EnglishCN.com)
When was the last time that I enjoying the moon? Maybe more than a year ago. How astonishing! It had been so long a time that I forget to even look up to see the moon!
I remembered well that years ago I quite enjoyed the moon in the dawn of the summer. In the breeze, the moon seemed to be part of the azure sky, pearl white, delicate, cozy floating in the aura of the sun that still lied in the other side of hills and just showed a very little piece of its face. As the time went by the moon faded in the sky, silently and smoothly slid into the azure water, no ripple, no sound, like a grace bend of ballet, like the returning journey to her lake of a water lily. For years I had not get up that early to catch the last moments of the moon in a day. And for years I seemed to have forgotten to enjoy her beauty, even in the night.
I remembered as well that when I first tried to write something in English I wrote very short pieces about the moon and a curious child. The moon told interesting things to the child and helped her to know the world. It seemed that daydreaming about the moon was quite amusing to me long ago. How could I loose sight of it for so long?
Taking a deep breath, I stayed there gazing at the moon. She was as quite and beautiful as she always was. Oh, Moon, thanks for calling.