Poetry at the crossroads of youth

The wind chimes of the years jingle in my ears? Standing at a young intersection, I stare quietly? Eyes? Straight to the distance of youth dreams? Why don't you look back at your footprints? That string of footprints recorded every fall and trip I made? There are oases, deserts, prosperity and desolation on this road? There is wind and rain, birds and flowers? Is there the joy of flowers and the sadness of leaves? That's it? I trudged over and stood at a young intersection? The road ahead is still beautiful and long? Maybe I will be sad, maybe I will be lost? But? Can't you think about fleeting youth? It's over. I'm going to pack, okay? Put laughter and tears in your backpack? With dreams? I set foot on the moonlight persistently again? How beautiful is it to be young? I want to grasp these dewdrops of youth? Singing for life? The sun rises ahead. This is my destination, my yearning.