Small poem: Emerald Morning Sun

Travel to the rain

The time of training has not changed at all

The point of the collection is also not moving

I speak with all comrades

Stand upright

A basketball court where red and green meet

The sun was shining

White light after white light

It shines with the emeralds on the trees

The air is slightly relaxed

The teams line up vertically and horizontally

Move forward slowly

The crowd in front of them gradually thinned out

Only that remains

Bright and not dazzling sun

Breeze

Ripples in my heart

With me

A whole morning

All as bright as emerald