Urgently beg. Write a poem imitating Homesickness, anything will do. I want something original. When I was a child, homesickness was a small stamp, and I

When I was young, childhood was ignorance in ignorance. I was cheerful and my mother was tired.

Hou Zhang's childhood was a rebellious youth. I am willful, and my mother gives in.

Later, childhood is the aftertaste of running around. I miss it and my mother is crying.

When I was a child, my ideal was a narrow seesaw. I am here, and my ideal is there.

When I grow up, my ideal is a tall building, with my head down and my ideal on it.

Later, the ideal is a dark secret room, I am outside, and the ideal is inside.

Now, the ideal is a little star, I am here and the star is there.

Yesterday, my dream was the distant starry sky. I can see it, but I can't reach it Later, my dream was the romantic moon in the water. I can reach it, but I can't touch it When I grow up, my dream is a happy family. If you can get it, you just don't know how to cherish it. Now, my dream is a dull life. If I know how to cherish, I will be happy.