"On the banyan tree by the pond, cicadas cry in the summer sound ..."
This wonderful melody echoed in my ears again, and I remembered playing in the vegetable field behind my house when I was three or four years old. My family lived by a pond, where there was only a vegetable field and a few small farmhouses, but it was my childhood paradise.
Needless to say, light water, golden cauliflower, graceful willow; Needless to say, cicadas sing in the leaves, earthworms creep in the loess, and beautiful farmyard; Just in the green vegetable garden, there is unlimited interest. Frogs sing here and crickets play the piano here. There will be groups of dragonflies flying around before it rains. I remember one day my grandmother helped me catch dragonflies there like other children. Run! Jump! Grab it! Grab it! In less than a quarter of an hour, I harvested a room full of dragonflies-then I ran to death.
Recalling that innocent childhood, shouldn't we sing for it?
Ah! Childhood! Childhood!
"On the swing beside the grass, only butterflies stop on it ..."
As early as before my brother was born, I often went to the menstrual home to play. There are five fig trees in her backyard. I come for those sweet, sour and fragrant figs. Every time I go to her house, I always tiptoe to secretly open the window, then take a small bench, step on it carefully, hold the windowsill with my hands and jump hard, and then turn to the backyard. The figs there are very easy to pick, and I ate them with relish in the backyard of Wonderland. From time to time, menstruation will look at me with a strange look, with her hands akimbo, mixed with blame, worry and love. I just giggle with fruit in one hand.
Now, the pressure of further education makes me breathless. Look in the mirror, and you will never find that innocent smiling face again.
Ah! Childhood! Childhood!
"The teacher's chalk is still singing hard on the blackboard, looking forward to class, looking forward to school, looking forward to the childhood of the game. ...
In an instant, I went to primary school. In those years, what impressed me was the parent-teacher conference. I remember that the parent-teacher conference was always held at night, and our students would secretly follow us to school. We will all take flashlights and "explore" in that eerie administrative building. We often tiptoe up the stairs, pass through several locked security doors and grope our way forward in the dark. Sometimes, "which class is it?" Instead of looking up at that terrible face, we flew down the stairs and ran away.
Now, the little boy is sensible, and he is a little depressed and sad. He will never play childhood pranks again. His innocence and childlike interest are lost in life.
Ah! Childhood! Childhood!