I came across a poem by chance and thought it suited them very well.
"Huaixu is about to go far away, and autumn has not yet appeared in the south of the Yangtze River."
There is an old locust tree in front of the window of Huaixu's bedroom, which is older than her. Ever since Huaixu can remember, the tree has looked like this. The bark is dry and rugged, and the branches are randomly extending around the trunk. It is full of wrinkles, but it is full of life. It sprouts in the spring equinox, blooms in the summer, leaves fall in the autumn, and sleeps in the winter. Repeatedly, it has accompanied Huaixu's entire youth.
Whenever the Sophora japonica flowers are in bloom, during the break between studying, Sophora japonica always likes to accompany the scent of Sophora japonica, looking at the old Sophora japonica tree in a daze, and telling the old Sophora japonica tree everything about the past few days. The Sophora japonica preface cannot be finished, and the Old Sophora japonica tree never gets tired of listening to it. Xu knew that the old locust tree knew all the girl's thoughts. Her secrets were known to the clouds, the moon, the stars, and the old locust tree that night. The wind blowing through the wide streets and narrow alleys could not reach the young man's ears. He doesn't know
Intention: I always feel like writing something, recording them and myself