April wind blows across the fields, and bright sunshine warms the earth. Dreams are always perfect and pure. When I woke up, I only saw a gray corner of the sky. Where is the ideal?
After the mid-term exam, I saw that score and felt guilty. Where have I been this semester? The answer is unknown. The cold wind blows across the face, making the bitter water more wanton. Memories fly with me, hiding my ideal in the golden sunflower: to be a teacher in a beautiful and sacred campus and sow the seeds of truth, goodness and beauty to the children who were born true and pure.
But now I can't even do my own study. How can I start teaching? It will only miss those children. You want to give up? Tears filled my eyes. Did you give up? Still sad? The dawn of a dream flashes. A poem defines my goal.
When cobwebs mercilessly sealed my stove, when the smoke of ashes sighed poverty, I still stubbornly spread the ashes of disappointment and wrote with beautiful snowflakes: Believe in the future, when my purple grapes turned into dew in late autumn, and when my flowers nestled in other people's feelings, I still stubbornly wrote on the desolate land of frost vines: Believe in the future, I will wave the sky with my fingers and hold it with my palm. With a warm and beautiful pen swaying with the dawn, I wrote with my child's pen: Believe in the future, my friend, believe in the future, believe in unyielding efforts, believe in youth who overcomes death, believe in the future and love life.
Yes, the ideal is not a hollow castle, too much sadness and weakness will only be doomed to lose the whole game. Only by being strong, serious and persistent can we win success.
I saw golden sunshine scattered all over the floor, blue sky and cotton-like white clouds. Sunflower stands quietly in the field, smiling, facing the sky and the sun. Sunflowers were not particularly beautiful before, but now they are the most beautiful flowers in the world. Like sunflowers, smiling at the sun can dispel the darkness. I found that ...