Lying on the grass, looking at the sky, but just alone. The street lights are shining on the city, so bright and gorgeous. The noise drowned the poor life, but ignited the painful memories. I silently bless her, whether she has returned to the swing of her hometown. It's just our swing. That Is the swing still rippling and waiting Why the good time is always so short, even the aftertaste of time do not give me have quietly left, what is the taste of happiness in the end? Shall I continue to wait for you? My dear little friend. Is there a result of waiting? The plum blossoms in the sky are scattered from the branches and on the swing, spreading all over the swing. I sit quietly on the top, sitting on the swing covered with plum blossoms, looking at the distance, whether you have come back Looking at the Yellow photos, missing is brewing, memory is playing back. Night, no wind, and there are no stars in the night, memories are growing. The rippling swing is still em