Walk through the rainy season
Through the thick ice and snow circle
In spring
Find you the most beautiful
If you say happily,
Where is your spring?
Your eyes tell me.
I put it all in spring.
-Eyes
Chapter 2: "Where has all the time gone?"
There is a bowl of noodles on the stage.
This is for him, dear.
He never looked at her carefully.
She never blamed him.
The sun shone on her cheek.
Time has made it no longer smooth.
I have been working in a hurry all my life.
Just because he called her mom.
Where has all the time gone?
Leaving only her hurried hair.
Life is hard.
She never said that she was tired.
Where has all the time gone?
Leaving only her hurried white hair
have neither complaint nor regret
All she cares about is him.
Chapter 3: Dream Town
My dream,
There is a small town,
A person can live in a small town.
There is no messy market,
There are not many residents,
Cold and clear,
Quiet,
There is only one garden,
There is only one big tree,
Only a fallen leaf,
Just a bunch of flowers,
There is only a mist,
There was only a breeze,
Hide secretly—
Shallow love,
A trace of sadness,
Love,
Silent attachment.
My dream girl,
Who lives in my dream town?
Chapter four: Our post-80s generation.
Sweet roots and malt extract are added to hairy bean sprouts, and bird eggs and fried cow dung are added to haystacks;
Our eighties.
Jumping frog rolls rubber bands and marbles in the hoop, picks up a stone and jumps over the house;
Our eighties.
Play house in the afternoon, cool the bed after dinner,
Sigh the wonder of fireflies and the golden horse in fantasy stories;
Our eighties.
Looking forward to the fireworks of the Spring Festival, greedy for wok;
Listen to the hammering of maltose cake;
In the vendor's rattle, I'm afraid my mother will call me home.
Birthday without cake, amazed at the plumeria and hand-painted greeting cards in the bowl;
Bouncing home after picking the big red flowers,
I hope it can wait a long time. Popcorn;
Our eighties.
On the way to school, frogs croak in the fields.
On the way to school, the ducks quack in the pond.
Oh!
And the man who threw a stone and was almost bitten by a goose with a big head;
Our eighties.
We learned to ride a bike by leaning against the beam.
Although I have experienced countless times of rolling and crawling;
Standing on a small bench with tears on his face,
But I'm eating my own delicious food, and I'm still a little embarrassed
Roast corn and roast sweet potatoes, and drain the oil residue around the stove;
Our eighties.
I dreamed of growing up at that time, but now I yearn for him at that time;
10 years later, our 1980s became a memory.
I like the snowflakes that I haven't seen for a long time in winter in the south;
After 20 years, our 80 years will never be mentioned again.
More is the world-weary sauce vinegar tea;
50 years later, do I remember,
In the 1980s, when memories turned into stories,
To my grandchildren,
What is a grapple?
Chapter 5: You are eternal in my eyes.
Like Xu Zhimo, I write poems for you.
Write about your young past.
Write down your rich life.
The long river of happiness is like a never-ending dream.
Looking back at your beautiful city is like the most beautiful glow in the early days.
Once as thin as a veil, the door of memory opened.
The flood of endless memories of you is coming.
I'd rather drown in it
Indulge in the moment when I first met you.
I just hope that time and space are still.
From now on, you and I will live in eternal time.
No parting
No one else.
The world in my eyes.
You are lonely.
Chapter 6: Sad Flowers
A girl with flowers in her hand.
Looking out of the window alone.
I seem to have forgotten something.
I think.
She must be very happy.
He must be very happy.
It must be happy, too.
Just this afternoon.
But it's night.
in the evening
Flowers have lost their meaning.
Poor flower or poor person
I'm afraid of such a night
I am even more afraid that it will not be bright.
I'm worried about myself.
As for them,
They don't need flowers at night.
Because it doesn't make sense.