Take me back to my childhood home.
I lay on the windowsill again,
Look at the drizzle like fireworks in March.
Nobody's home,
I climbed the fence and waited for the morning glory to blow the horn.
Remember: lonely little yellow duck in the river in front of the door,
And that little frog that scared me.
The smell of childhood,
Smells like oolong tea in my grandfather's pot.
The story of childhood is as fresh as grandma's white hair on her temples.
Childhood was a dream last night,
Swaying like an iris in the water.
Seek the best ~ ~ ~ ~ ~