If we don't recall it, will there still be the residual warmth of love in our past youth?
During the command, the passing time gradually disappears in the memory of the mind. When the afterimage remains, who will remember whom? The sky, flowers, breeze, lawn, and you in the sunshine secretly describe your outline in my heart. There is a little melancholy in the song of memory. Our love began to deteriorate in the passing years. Somewhere, the shackles of time trapped your and my breathing, and we began to gasp for air. What makes us so tired? Secular? Time? Hypocritical? Or ourselves?
Suddenly one day, I opened my eyes, and the sunshine was still there. After the most beautiful bloom, what settled down was the beauty of the past or the remnants of worthlessness?
The memories of fleeting years have accumulated, and they were defeated at the beginning of reincarnation. . . .