Not write
But holding a dry branch
Lying proudly on the beach
Write your own symbols.
Childhood is an ethereal dream.
Can't draw.
But holding an angular stone
Be in high spirits on the wall
Outline one's ideal kingdom
Childhood is pure spirit.
Don't know how to dance
But put on mom's long sleeves
On the green grassland full of flowers
Spin the most beautiful ballet
Childhood is a holy angel.
Don't know the melody
But let go of the gentle voice
In the boundless wilderness
Singing the rising sun on the grassland
You can laugh happily in childhood.
Even if two front teeth are lost
Still won't worry about being suspected.
Because there is a face like a red apple.
You can cry loudly in childhood.
Even if it thunders and it doesn't rain.
You will also find it between your fingers.
People who love you are already anxious.
Childhood can be fun.
Even if the sun goes down,
You can also pretend not to hear.
Mom called again and again.
Childhood can talk about their own views without scruple.
Even if it is to discredit others.
But it is the purest language.
Because it's a lotus that just came out of the water.