Complete Reading of Poetry in Grade Four

Childhood childhood is a fresh song. I use my immature hands to compose the days into a string of notes and jump between my fingers. Childhood is a pure blue painting. With clear eyes, I describe the years as a pure blue river flowing in my heart. Childhood is a string of ears of rice picked up in a paddy field, which radiates golden light in the long river of time. When time becomes the color of sadness.