Poetry and Prose-We were young

On the west of night is still young, there is a willow tree in the waning moon.

Lonely pillow, cool night, looking through the window, white light.

Engraved with green screen windows.

Deliberately remembering the seashells and not wanting to think about them.

In those days, children were unforgettable without wanting anything.

People calling friends and calling friends were bustling.

Playing hide-and-seek cats with a wry smile.

Once, teenagers aspired to look at the stars and count their dreams of flying P > how many people keep in touch with each other as the years go by

Once a few friends were separated

Yellow photos were dug up at the bottom of the old box

The strange and familiar smile

The beautiful and brilliant face like a lifetime ago

The past' prosperity and sadness eventually dispersed into clouds

Once elegance and quicksand were like fingers. > Inevitable estrangement is gradually emerging

Even if we meet again, it will only be a few pleasantries

In fact, we all don't want to change

It's just a world with fading time

We are powerless to return to heaven

Perhaps the most important thing is today

Cherish and love everything and move forward hand in hand.