The promise of reunion under the cherry blossom tree eventually rusted into a sculpture of watch during the rainy season. We once exchanged half a poem in a sea of people, and the remaining rhymes were crushed by the wind at the crossroads. The key is still hanging in the same place, but rust has climbed into the keyhole, waiting to corrode each other over time. The hand of the old clock was stuck at six o'clock in the evening, very much like the eighteen years old when I was hesitant to speak. The migratory birds passing by the eaves of the old house did not bring any news. It turned out that some migratory birds never return to their nests. There was a side-by-side photo missing from the album, and I later realized that white space is the sharpest ellipsis. Time flies, and regrets are like meteors in the night sky, fleeting, leaving only a touch of sadness and memories. Time flies, and regrets are like fallen leaves in the wind, drifting in my heart, but I can never get back that lost time.
Purpose: Inspiring stories