The wind turns the pages of the book
Author: Yuanrong Picture @ Sakura-sang
"Only Nanfeng old acquaintances, stealing the door and flipping through the book. The south wind of spring penetrates the woody branches and fragrant flowers, and turns into the window with the warm smell of the sun, secretly turning a few pages of the book on the desk, and the breeze stops on the page of "our youth", dyeing the word "youth" with the taste of spring.
Under the cherry blossom tree, you and I work hand in hand, make a promise, we will go to the same university, the sun's circle of light hits the face, the chirping swallow hovers on the branch, its sharp beak gently pecks at the cherry blossom petals, the camera presses the shutter, leaving us smiling, the cola-flavored sparkling water tumbling in the glass, folding into a strangely shaped straw to suck the coolness that belongs to spring and summer. The pure white school uniform reflects the sunlight, and we squint our eyes as we look for a way into the future.
The light blue curtains are flying in the dry air, the windowsill is the tinkling blue wind chimes, outside the window is the delicate magnolia, the young man walked by, the blue curtains into the windowsill, his eyes were gentle and deep, I lowered my head and pretended to be calm, when he walked into the noisy classroom with a basketball, the voices were boiling, the flowers were fragrant, the sun was shining, my eyes couldn't be removed, the lemon candy at a loss was touched by you and fell to the ground, leaned over to pick it up, and the fragrance that belonged to him was captured by me.
The crush of his youth, fantasizing in his heart that he would become the heroine of the novel, not only could he subdue demons and eliminate demons, but also reap the love of others. He became the protagonist of my daydream, in which the young man whispered gently, close to my ears, and I didn't know what to do.
The breeze turned the pages of the book, and the words "green onion secret love" on the book were tightly shrouded in the orange-red halo of the sunset, misty and deep.
The evening breeze makes wine to dispel melancholy, the cool breeze turns the pages at will—the word "rebellion" comes into view, and the endless quarrels with my parents are reconciled, and countless nights away from home, the gazebo becomes the final destination that comforts me, and the epiphany blooms, and I watch it bloom, wither, and wither.
As I walked down the boulevard with a hungry stomach in my arms, the smell of oily breakfast hit my nostrils. Parents are always the first to bow to their children, and their hearts are overwhelmed by the rebellious girl who cares all night. The breeze blows, I am controlled by her, and I am the page where the wind blows.
The wind likes to read poetry, and she blows open the teacher's notepad, and her face is full of poetry, prose, and beautiful words are like beating notes, and on the notes are the gentleman's tuxedo birds.
On the three-foot podium, one side of heaven and earth, I recorded the sentences that touched my heartstrings, silently wrote them in my heart, and repeated them over and over again: poetry saves people's souls, and becomes a simple and beautiful poet like a teacher.
The wind slipped in through the crack in the window, and gently tapped open my diary, which contained the cherry blossoms of April, the words of mantra, the sincere friendship, the restless and noisy quiet night, and the poems that were like jade glue.
Camellia flowers in spring, ice cream in summer, red maple leaves in autumn, small snowflakes in winter. The diary hides my youth and joy.
I would like to write this article to remember my rebellious youth.
This article is from the literature of Bangmo, original text, without permission, it is forbidden to reprint, and piracy must be investigated. If you like it, please like and share, thank you for your support!