I would like to commemorate the passing of youth! Under the green sycamore trees, we once ran together unscrupulously, but the lonely figures under the iron tower were destined to pass by each other. I miss those early days, the nights we spent lying on the lawn counting stars together, skipping class and playing games together, quarreling, making trouble, beating and scolding! Those squandered youth are scattered in the wind and turned into memories! It is this group of people who have made my entire youth beautiful. It's a pity that when I look back suddenly, the sadness still exists! It is those pains that weave our golden years and teach us to grow! Those sandy past events can only remain in the deepest memory, secretly sentimental, hurt by the years, and weakened by love!