Poetry with the theme of childhood

Childhood childhood is a fresh song. I use my immature hands to compose the days into a string of notes and jump through my fingers. Childhood is a pure blue painting. I use clear eyes to paint the years as a pure blue river flowing in my heart. It is the string of ears of rice picked up in the paddy field, which gives off golden light in the long river of time. When time smeared a sad color on the time and space I walked through, when life filled my heart with hardships with tough hands. Childhood, it sang in my silent heart and cheered in the river of time. Precipitated into pearls, I carefully strung it into a flashing necklace in the silent night, which made my whole childhood (poetry) beautiful. In the warm sunshine, the cuckoo is crying and laughing, the hands of poplar are shaking with the wind, and the childish song is wandering in the running water. Happy years are like this. Insects are whispering in the green birch forest, and white dandelions are emitting beautiful flower caps. The party partners are running in the wind, and the intoxicating time is here. There are fish frolicking by the gurgling stream, and the oily water plants are swaying with gentle lines and screaming loudly, piercing the sky, so the joy of childhood has gone silently. I saw your shadow in my dream. The sunshine is tender and innocent, and a candy can be happy for a long time. Have you ever thought about the years when you looked at the blue sky outside the window when you were a child, and you and I used to play among the flowers and green leaves? When I grow up, I can't see the lonely tree-lined path of my childhood clearly, and there are usually no footprints of travelers. I am attached to everything in this place. Not a forest explorer. Perhaps because I need comfort in my heart, I step into this little-known land almost every day. Listen to a wind and rain concerto of "Old Friend", smell Tingting's memories scattered in the air, and take a sip of rain and dew. Just an interesting explorer. In a trance, there once was a big tree. She said that she loves one mountain and one water like me; I am in love, stroking weeping willows and whispering in the clear blue lake; I am in love, waiting quietly in the long and uninhabited mountains, and the sunset is faint with shyness. She leaned down and whispered to me that her name was childhood. Every time I pass a big tree, I can always find that childhood in the clutter. And she can also find out the purest and flawless me in the thousands of voices that linger in my ears. The figure by the Lake Bi is no longer just a shy girl who enjoys growing up. The long uninhabited mountain is no longer just an ignorant girl who looks at life. Delicate mind, young mind, carrying unknown time code, but more like a tree to hold up that childhood. "Come on, let's row together!" "No, I can't play any more." Wearing thick glasses and carrying a bulging schoolbag, I left my childhood silently. Those memories, like running water, disappeared with my heavy footsteps and the disappearance of the sunshine ... Childhood seems to have said nothing, watching my mature face, quietly retreating. A line of tears, falling in the sky, who can feel the childhood like a tree ... I quickly walked to the tree-lined path, and my calm voice echoed over and over again in this endless land. However, there is no gentle voice I used to have ... a big tree stands luxuriantly behind me, and its slender branches gently rest on my shoulders, gently telling me that she is called youth. She pointed to the opposite side. I looked up at the stars and lights, and suddenly gathered in that childhood like a big tree ... original, I don't know if it's ok. ...