Prosperous flowers fall out

　　I do not know when six years of elementary school time have come to an end. Looking back, I feel a lot of emotions, but I don't know where to start.

　　I still vaguely remember, six years ago, I entered the school in what kind of mood, at that time, I can say that I was a naive age, curious about everything around me, as if the world around me is a place I never understand.

　　On the day I entered school, I came to the entrance of that beautiful school in the company of my parents, waved my hands happily, and then walked into the school with great pride. It was like a proud little bird, all because I had entered a place called elementary school.

　　Every morning, I walked into the school with the warm sunshine, greeted the teacher sweetly, and before I stepped into the classroom, I heard the sound of reading aloud in my ears, and my heart, too, was quiet. Gradually, as I grew older, I entered the era of senior students, and there was a no more carefree time in the lower grades, all I could think about every day was studying and homework.

　　The growth will always have a price, the higher section, more and more homework, teachers, more and more severe, year after year, to the sixth grade, the moment of the sprint to the elementary school six years of learning for the moment of the primary school smile, the pressure on the body heavier and heavier, but always take some time with friends in the corridor quietly lying, enjoy the warmth of the sun, we talk about this, talk about that, happy in this moment with us We talk about this and that, happy in this moment with us.

　　The heart is also in the unconscious, full of reluctance, is the reluctance of classmates, teachers, friends, after all, together for so many years, is you, always with me, whether it is disappointed or sad, there are always you around this group of people, we experienced together too much, there is laughter, there are tears.

　　My friend, I have quarreled with you and had, no matter how angry or angry, to later, but always will be reconciled. In the end, no matter what the other party did wrong, how to exceed their bottom line, we can always unconditionally forgive each other, the heart always thinks of her good, just because you are my best friend.

　　Teacher, it was you who taught me so much when I was young and ignorant. You were always angry when your classmates didn't do their homework because you thought of us, and when we did something wrong, you would always be patient and persuasive. Thank you for spilling the dew of knowledge into our hearts.

　　I'm leaving this school, and it's time for me to say goodbye, but you are my most precious memories. I don't know, which day, I came close to you again, and came to the memories we once shared, the sky is far apart, but I can't forget the deep blessing for you.

　　A song is finished: prosperous flowers fell, and tears also fell, filled with joy and sadness ......

Love of fireflies

　　Fireflies, in the summer. Fireflies gently draw circles. Childish radius, disillusioned trajectory, a fleeting, but left a deep arc on the heart. The glowing yellow dots, blurred with blur. It is like with a hint of fondness, gently wandering in time. Like a youkai, the night without light quietly wanders away. In this summer, this annoying summer, memories of you with the pale yellow fireflies faintly, from time to time flash. Where are you? I cover my face and cry. I can't find you, how can I go on?

　　I can only take advantage of the trajectory of the fireflies and let it disturb my magnetic field. I can only take advantage of the trajectory of the fireflies and let it disturb my magnetic field. By the light, I can see the butterflies, the grass, the flowers, the little ones, and the curves of your face. I traveled back in time and space to you. Can't touch you, can only silently watch you, can't see you, is yourself.

　　You are in my spring, I am in your summer night. What keeps each other apart? It is the displacement of time! It is the comparison of age! The trajectory of fireflies, the infinite beauty of your season of hope. Open the box of dreams, why should there be such an extra plume of hope? However, the others stay until summer but few. The trajectory of fireflies, the remains of my summer nights of glowing light. Open the box of dreams, but so many fewer notes of hope are so much to lose! With the trajectory of the fireflies, I can not live the courage to find and feel the road ahead. Been hit by the summer, I'll just have to contain the rolling, looking at the false floating trajectory.