Push the Cup to Change the Cup and Get Drunk at Dusk

I miss you, the young man who flew kites and played with cicadas, picked up maples and asked about frost; I miss you, the true feelings with no regrets in those innocent years. Like flowers and beautiful families, years pass by like a fleeting time. I would like to write this article to reminisce about the youth with a snap of a finger, and the straightforwardness and innocence that have long been dissolved in the thick reagents of life.