You are shy and wearing a white skirt. In the summer wind, pink buttons are exposed. All thoughts are like paper, crisp and light, as light as rouge. Fuzzy tape, like naughty fish, swims on your fair skin.

Sixteen years old, ignorant and curious, opened a pool.

Since then, my eyes have turned away, my feelings are surging, I am in full bloom in an instant, and I have no intention of attending classes. The paper is full of your name, and every stroke is very careful. Pure imagination and delicate handwriting are as simple and beautiful as those of us who are young and young. The sky is blue and the wind is clean.

You are quiet, lonely and proud. When the teacher reads your name, the language is full of expectation and envy. You live in the south of the city, and the school is very close. Put on a ponytail and shake the morning light. It smells good. I live in the west of the city. I go the same way as you and run the opposite way.

What a beautiful distance, but you haven't been back for three years. Maybe in your world, I am as light as dust. In the transparent air, I go my own way, too far away to be ignored. By chance, you joked with your deskmate that the alley in the south of the city was too deep and dark to go home at night. Hope in language makes you cherish. How many times I want to say boldly that we will be together after school. My secret is that I'm shy and it's hard to talk.

I am always bold when I match a flashlight, which is a long question mark in my heart. In the caring eyes, I seem to think of youth, my thoughts are entangled, and I understand and am confused. Your beauty opens the imagination of the local ruffians, and the light in the dark calms you. After you sang loudly and sweetly, the thugs left angrily ... but you never came back, and you didn't even know who the bruise on your face was.

Every black is peaceful and bright, and the song will always accompany you. /kloc-more than 0/000, 12 flashlights, and hundreds of popular out-of-tune songs are my most trivial and secretive likes for you, which are close at hand but out of reach. ...

I have cut out your article and made beautiful comments. I remember when you were born, you didn't like sweets, and you wore a white skirt with beautiful round Chinese characters. I am proud of you, disappointed by the inexplicable letters from readers, surprised by the songs on the radio, and worried about your poems in the school newspaper, but you never want to look back, look at me and feel sorry for all the places you left.

I built an emotional siege for myself. I'll walk around the city, and you walk outside the city. Youth is a hard word to say, just like you and I, we haven't been in touch for three years. We are familiar and unfamiliar, and we are destined to drift away step by step in the green river.

The college entrance examination made us care nothing. You in the south of the city and I in the west of the city meet and leave, and everything is easy. That summer vacation, I walked through that alley countless times. After you walked in front of me, you didn't stop and I didn't catch up. Our distance is always the same, beautiful and sad.

You went to a distant northern university, and I stayed in a small town to study as a teacher. Graduation, work, love, everything is in order. The meeting after five years is also long. Instantly stop, tens of centimeters of eye contact, separated by infinite Qian Shan. I didn't ask you what happened to the white skirt, and you didn't ask me who the hazy poem was, just as familiar and strange as five years ago.

My love has nothing to do with you after all. Mine is just a red bean growing in words, pure and beautiful, emitting a book fragrance. The past is gone, and all the past will only be recalled, only melancholy.

After many years, I will finally be calm and forgive my humbleness and helplessness. Through time, give yourself a big hug, happiness and satisfaction. And you, just a secret I can't tell, have nothing to do with time, as light as a flower. ...