Preface to the yearbook of primary school graduation. Write with modern poetry

The flying years, like the memories of the growth of fine sand between your fingers, can't be replaced, because you are the only young eagle that flapped its wings and announced to the sky that we would fly.

The bell rang again, the footsteps on the way to school thumped, and the melodious sound of reading haunted me.

Look at the familiar you frolicking at your desk. Where is the teacher's back three feet high Full marks of smiling face, pure.

There is a place that we have chased, maybe cried, but laughed more. Today, we are going to leave here and say goodbye to those familiar faces. We are not afraid, but we are hopeful.

In the future, whether you are a doctor who saves lives, a scientist who explores the world, an all-powerful leader, hands working in the fields, or feet supporting tall buildings, don't forget this place in your memory.