I accidentally turned to a poem that I didn't know how to express my admiration to people many years ago, and now I think it's really an interesting memory [cover your face]
Birds singing and raining under the snow, wind blowing, I don't know winter and summer; pen to paper, fast and slow, but chaotic; life is short, where does coke start; worry, worry, do not know who to solve.
In the middle of the month, the warblers cry under the clouds and frost, confused by spring and autumn; sad in the heart, lingering, they will evaporate with tears; the world changes, but the wounds are not reduced; cold, cold, waiting for good friends to return.
The previous one was written by me, the next one was her right, the battle was still neat, but she felt that the literary style was not as good as her, and after many years, I did not think of a name, and I lost the pen [laughing and crying]
