Youth passed away-for youth.

Flowers bloom and fall, and time flies. Time is like quicksand, slipping at the fingertips, as beautiful as a flower, and it is hard to engrave.

Looking at the mirror and feeling sorry for myself, the stories of temples and rings, whether happy or sad, have all melted into yesterday's years, and my hair has boiled white. Suddenly, I was surprised to see that the years passed quickly in silence, and my heart was full of melancholy and melancholy. In a blink of an eye, I passed the youth post station and drifted away. Youth faded and the years became sad. After dancing lightly and flowers flying out, I finally understand that there is only one thing that remains unchanged in my heart, and that is to cherish.

I clenched my hands in vain, trying to seize the time. Youth is like a feast with heavy make-up, which will come to an end after interweaving. Only the lonely loneliness and the faint sigh in the dead of night will clean up the residual wine!

Outside the window, there is a lot of time blooming seductively. Under the neon lights, people who enjoy the night begin to fidget, such as elves blooming on the edge of dreams and reality. I am quiet inside, used to being quiet, alone, with a lamp, occasionally listening to a tune as light as a shallow mark, accompanied by sleepiness. Look on coldly at the lively place, even if the story, applause and applause are gorgeous, it will eventually go away, just like a romantic nothingness.

That night is deep, when all is silent. Gently lift the veil of years, some stranded past events are looming, and they are salvaged and savored. The train of life, carrying many worldly affairs, passed each other in a hurry. Some encounters are rare in this life, but life is impermanent. It's hard to lift a finger, lonely and lonely. It's easy when you're not watching, but difficult when you're watching. Acacia is a kind of beauty and vicissitudes. Things have always been there, and what they face is no longer right, leaving only resentment and emptiness.

The lush years are always picturesque, and the running track is outlined deeply and shallowly like line drawing. Whether beautiful or rough, the magnificent silhouette has gone away, can not be copied, and will never look back. Accustomed to the ebb and flow of the tide, watching the sunset and sunrise, even the beautiful scenery will eventually fade and fall into the dust. Youth is gone, who will accompany you to count your life?

The front mountain is full of water, the sea has changed and the world is full of dust. The heart has a Qian Qian knot, but the reason is chaotic. During my recent visit, I felt sad and sighed. .