The breeze pulls open my curtains, the stars are peeping, and the silvery white moon is hanging by the bed.
If the moon represents the Communist Youth League, why say goodbye soon?
I close my eyes and want to recall every day we spent together. /////
It was a refreshing autumn, and the autumn wind was blowing gently, and it gradually turned cold.
The falling leaves stirred the small pond, and the bamboo leaves outside the window rippled slightly in the wind like waves. The sun shone through their dancing leaves and shed mottled light.
I ran with the light, across the playground, across the canteen and across the small pond. Finally, I came to a familiar but strange place.
I am familiar with the building, the sculpture, the green air and the smell of grass.
Then I met strange you, strange you, strange you.
Our faces are full of the shyness and curiosity of the newcomers. Curious about you today and yourself tomorrow.
That white dress, like pigeons on campus, is a cloud floating to the future.
I still remember when the class was over, you were enjoying your favorite apple.
Remember your golden tongue after lights out.
I still remember the first time you didn't finish your homework and read Amitabha.
Do you remember? I got hurt on the court, you say, brother, have fun!
Do you remember? Do flying insects make you scream in the classroom in summer?
Do you remember, do you remember all my silence and verbosity?
All this has merged into a small river, a river that is flowing away. The river is gentle and clear, singing our songs happily.
This song comes from your fingertips, your fingertips, dancing on the piano.
Those notes have seven colors, hanging on the horizon after the rain, like poems in my mind, constantly emerging. /////
I opened my eyes, trying to let all my thoughts flow to my fingertips and leave my most unforgettable poem on paper.
But it happened, but it happened,
The morning light broke into my heart, blurred, and I remembered your smiling face.
Are you laughing because you stayed up all night in Nanjing, or because that bowl of vegetarian noodles didn't come for an hour?
You smiled. Did you get lost in Shaoxing? The journey was like an adventure.
You smiled. Isn't it a little salty to learn tap water, agriculture and miss Woodman Spring?
Do you remember all these stories? If not, it doesn't matter, because constant forgetting is life.
Life gathers into a small river, a flowing river.
The river is surging, not afraid of bumps. It can laugh, move and sing.
The song came leisurely, dancing sweet-scented osmanthus and picking off the resting white dove.
The dove in the sky dispelled the fragrance of sweet-scented osmanthus and the color of the lawn, but it didn't dispel what we saw. We were reluctant to part.
2.
If the moon represents reunion, why say goodbye at once?
I closed my eyes, trying to find the past, and pieced together the fragments of memory in my vague mind.
-originally, I wanted to fill in the prose, but the combination of poetry and prose failed in the end, so it was empty, the same below-
That white dress, like a dove dancing on campus, is like a cloud that has just taken a bath.
Whenever the class is over in the afternoon, the clouds will form a team and cross the square of life.
The square cried, "Brother Square, the whole school is more than 2,000 feet. Why does everyone step on you and nobody cares about me? "
The canteen smiled: "Brother Plaza, this is life!" " "
This brand-new life gathers into a small river and gradually flows away, widening and filling the gap between us. Leave our songs and sing our happiness.
——————
The piano silently endured all kinds of feelings and became a DNA collector.
A sad butterfly lovers's song, performed well, sounds like love in the story, fragmented.
Teenagers don't know what it's like to worry. The variation of Super Mary makes people laugh and hurts their appendix.
Those melodious notes show seven colors. Some fly on Metasequoia glyptostroboides, some are hung with peony flowers, some are sprinkled on strings of red flowers, and some fly to wisteria that is no longer there.
Also, it sank into a small pond decorated with lotus leaves, rooted in the pale yellow building exterior wall, mixed with osmanthus fragrance.
You blush on the playground and look at the burning horizon.
You said, "Even if our hearts are hot again, who will remember the fiery sunset after separation?"
We are like dandelions. As soon as the wind blew, we all dispersed.
————
Boys like to call themselves "brothers". Perhaps many years later, the "buddy" is not the original one, but it is always the pigeon flying in the sky.
Dev, why are you so white? You were right about this secret one day.
"The white dove is goodbye." Yes! Before we break up, say goodbye before it's too late.
I woke up suddenly, only to find that the paper was still blank.
Goodbye, goodbye, filled my heart and turned into a fog.
I want all my thoughts to flow to the pen, and I want to leave my favorite poem to you.
I ran into the dense fog alone, but I couldn't feel the temperature of your eyes. But I will always remember you saying:
"As long as it's still on, it's not lost."
So I squatted on my desk and wrote this sentence: Everything seems to have happened yesterday, and yesterday is in front of me. It's too close for me to see.
3.
A: Graduation is a poem, a poem that will never be complete and can never be completed.
This poem with winter chill won't make you remember me, I will use it to remember you forever. 25s
B: The furthest distance in the world is not that the school emblem is red, black and green, but that when I am waiting for you, your smile is an apology for disturbing me.
A: With a little apology, you turn around and turn your back. I sat where I was, waiting for the moon to come out. When the moon sets, it is time for me to leave.
If the moon represents reunion, why say goodbye at once?
The moon lifted its veil at night and didn't want me to ask it. A glimmer of light in the fog lit up the direction I was looking for. Over 60 years old
A: I followed the light all the way to the corridor outside the classroom.
In the afternoon, the lazy sunshine penetrates through the sparse bamboo leaves and penetrates into the classroom window. Wake up the sleeping dust.
A: Those free dust are the soul of this air. They fell for me like snowflakes falling last winter.
This free-falling flower, quietly. I closed my eyes, heard the snow melt, and heard those voices. The 90s; Millennial; Generation Y; the Post-90s generation
A: I listened to the chorus rehearsal in the evening, and the high notes were difficult to sing. I shouted over and over again. It was not until later that you took part in the singing contest that my ears knew:
Poison ~ @, your voice is poison. Poison is an addictive song.
A: I heard that the cheerleading music used for three years, clumsy boys, never gave up.
Tripped his left foot over his right foot? Never mind, never mind, please try again.
However, my sisters never give up on me. I will never forget @, whether it is encouragement or comfort. 130s+
The fog started again. In this thick white fog, I am at a loss, I am hesitant. I vaguely heard your words:
As long as it is still bright, you are not lost. 145s+
Suddenly, I found the light reflected by the piano behind the fog. Sunny days make the piano sound, and the piano sound flows at your fingertips.
A: I want to see that face, the face kissed by the sun, but the fog blurs my vision.
The sound of the piano represents everything, as if it happened yesterday, and yesterday was just around the corner. It's too close for me to see. 175s+
A: I miss the stormy sounds and images of air conditioning in the Oriental Oasis at night. I miss your singing and laughing in the streets of Nanjing;
I want to lie on the bunk bed on the farm again, listening to the insects outside the window and waiting for the sun to shine;
A: I also want to kill a bottle of carved flowers with you in a lively pub in Shaoxing.
I want to see the miracle of flying man again and cheer for the last time.
A: I want to make another egg and let it fall from the sky. I want to write another poem for you beautiful people.
But it's too late, son. There is no miracle of separation.
A: The big clock next to Life Square stands there quietly.
Watch us come and watch us leave.
A: Time was taken away by the clock. I don't know where it went. Do you still stay in a corner of this campus? I can't find it.
The land of the east. A trip to Nanjing. May 4th Farm. A trip to Shaoxing.
A: There may be 18-year-old adult ceremony in four major festivals every year.
Two and a half years, more than ten seasons, and one hundred days.
Listen, who is singing that song again, one last dance.
This may be the last time I stand here. 27 zeros
The pigeon's wings dispersed the fog. Do you know why pigeons are so white? This is because pigeons are white, that is, I will say: goo ~ bye-bye 280s+