Writing poetry: a toast to youth-16-year-old flower season

Walking on a song: Sixteen years old, I am more persistent. I have been looking forward to the dream flower season, the age of taste, the flying youth and the bond between children and adults. Finally my flower season is no longer a dream. I long for that beautiful sixteen-year-old, poetic; I dreamed of that beautiful sixteen-year-old, like spring and streams; I look forward to that beautiful sixteen-year-old, like a rainbow and a sunset; I'm looking forward to that … sixteen, what an attractive age! How intoxicating! But I seem to get something different in this flower season! But what is this? Sixteen years old, I am no longer a child. I have my own ideal and vision for the future. But all this needs us to struggle! So what's left in my flower season is persistence, persistence and persistence. Sixteen-year-old, staying in the classroom all day for his own goals. Holding the textbook from head to toe. Sometimes I bite my teeth and still can't remember! So I made up my mind to use my persistent heart to illuminate the way forward. I remember the words in the English book, the word "what is this" in the Chinese book, and the formulas in physics and chemistry ... I was also interested in this before. But then I got bored. After starting to keep a distance from them in the "cold war", every exam was a fiasco. It was raining outside the window, and I walked on that familiar path. Suddenly a butterfly flew past me. Although its wings were wet, it flew. Finally, it rained harder and harder, so I couldn't help but pick up my umbrella and put it on my head. Only to see that brave guy walking in the rain. Raindrops as big as beans hit its thin body and it fell down. I looked at it carefully and found that it was still flapping its wings. When I was ready to help it, it miraculously flew. I was startled when I saw it, and the umbrella slipped from my hand unconsciously. Let the rain flow through my face, just because I feel the real persistence. I finally understand that all my previous efforts are just a little taste and a drop in the ocean. Yes! Sixteen years old, it's time to stick to it. It's time to have your own goals. Sixteen years old is not as beautiful as I thought. It's not even a poem or painting in my fantasy, even a little bitter, but I like that kind of bitterness. At the age of sixteen, if you don't absorb "nutrients", how can you bloom? I no longer have hazy persistence. & lt& lt& lt 16-year-old I am more nostalgic >>& gt& gt Time is the sunshine in the winter morning, carving mottled memories, rings and colors on the earth through the shadows of trees. Growth is a train on Yuan Ye, rolling with petals and running endlessly. Youth is the blue platycodon grandiflorum in full bloom in the countryside, which is quiet and grand. Every fragrance overflows with strange power, which is quiet and shocking ... The left hand is full of years, and the right hand is the future. I stood at the corner of 16 years old, and the street lamp stretched my shadow. When I closed my eyes, I saw the clock go back. Some people, some love, are inseparable. Childhood is a floc floating by the pond, blowing and drifting into the shallow sky. Grandma's continuous lullaby, grandpa's Tai Chi biography, my sister's two runny faces, and the little red flowers that she will never be willing to take off ... Those initial deep feelings in life are memories that were once covered by petals, so sincere and beautiful. I still remember that day when the sun was shining, I dragged my sister to run in the spring breeze, laughing like a silver bell and walking leisurely. Our figure is gradually indifferent in the passage of time, and the two small backs are fuzzy images about childishness. The first contact with textbooks, the first study of ABCD, the first reading of Bing Xin's prose, and the first worship of Newton. Eight years ago, I took my mother's hand and walked into a small office, knocking on the door of my growth. Once a person begins to grow up, time begins to fly by. Six years of primary school is a clear rain and confusion. Six years is too long, and many broken branches and miscellaneous leaves have gradually blurred. What is clear so far is only the teacher's face, the children's smiles and the fluttering red scarf. I miss this time very much. Perhaps people are always too nostalgic and always good at seeking realistic comfort in the dead personnel. The past childhood, after all, has passed, just like silks and satins that slip through the palm of your hand, delicate and cruel, leaving only a aftertaste. Fortunately, fortunately, I still remember you, and I still remember the brightest fragments. It was a firm life memory, but it became clearer and clearer after years of polishing. 14 years old is the end of childhood and the beginning of adolescence. I still remember the days when cicadas were windless in late spring and early summer, and they met instantly. At the moment when eyes met, was it too hasty or a three-year youth contract? There is no textual research. I only remember that after a baptism of military training, youth quietly kicked off, and life was engraved with the foreshadowing of fate in our palms. We are traveling companions on the journey of youth, watching the sunset glow and the morning glow all the way. 14-year-old transition is an unknown minor, 15-year-old exploration is a cocoon's desire and confusion. In the past two years, personnel have been flying in the wind, including pranks during our spring outing, embarrassment during exams, and gnashing of teeth during running ... Every tear may seep into the soil of youth and give birth to a magnificent future. Now, I am 16 years old. The vines of memory are wrapped around my body, and every love of childhood and childhood penetrates into my muscles.

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