The wind blows and blows, blowing back to our childhood.
At that time you were still eating sweets and I was wearing a princess dress.
The sun shines and shines on our past.
The same school uniform, my favorite canteen, and I actually look forward to class time.
The raindrops hit and hit, hurting our little umbrella.
Occasional thoughtfulness is worthy of applause. It is so bitter and mature to no longer ask for extravagance.
Beautiful times always pass by in a hurry.
Quiet windows always hide more sadness.
I close my eyes and the song I hum is no longer about you. How many times have I had the urge to write a poem for you, but it finally turned into a cup of warm coffee at hand. I took a sip and it seemed that it was not so bitter anymore. Adding some milk might make it sweeter. As for you, I went out and turned a corner and saw you again. You smiled and said to me, "So you are here." Your eyes are still gentle.
I also waved to you, turned around and walked away from you.
I had no good stories to tell and all I had with me was my favorite tipple. If you are willing to sit down and raise a glass with me, I will naturally have a long life with you.