Meteors fall into the night sky, fall into eyes, and splash all night. Is this secular night silent? Meteors pass by, breezes pass by, and hair floats by. Is there a gloomy sadness? Then I opened the yellow title page, the years of junior high school life are uncertain, and tears have set off to trace back to that ancient summer, like a song.
At the corner of the stairs, there are always wisps of dust floating, which are the tears we dry when we are helpless and the laughter we hang up when we are happy. That corner witnessed our growth, our transformation, and our invisible friendship and commitment to meet.
My thoughts are lingering by the evening breeze, extending to the boundless distance, walking alone, looking for clear and hazy memories.
Holding the political background, leaving the responsibility behind, hiding in the corner of the stairs with a relieved expression. We sat back to back. The wind is blowing gently, blowing your dull voice into my heart.
It turns out that we have such a similar fate, shoulder the same mission as Mount Tai, and have irreversible responsibilities.
As a result, everything becomes very subtle. Eyes have brightness, palms have humidity. Because we meet and know each other, our future is doomed. In the memory of the song-like years, there is no loneliness and loneliness left by the school at dusk.
Accustomed to learning and tired of having your company; Accustomed to sharing with you when you are excited and happy; Accustomed to your encouragement when you are helpless and wronged; Accustomed to having you in lonely and long years.
I can't change my unhappiness. When I was hiding, I looked for you everywhere at a loss. You can't change it. When you are angry, I will comfort you gently. Can't change your sad tears, I am silly to accompany you to tears.
After autumn, prosperity declines. When everything disappears with the wind, the years pass with the rotation of the annual rings and infinite regrets. What remains and is worth cherishing is just the old song-like story spread out in my eyes.
Reversible, I still have a simple note on me, haunted by a ghost in my dream.