There is a kind of Acacia called memories.

There is a kind of Acacia called memory, the best thing in life is the golden childhood spent in the rape flowers, in the streams, in the woods, in the land where you have me. We used to chase and fight in that land, but where are we now? For us at that time, a piece of mud can make us miss a day, a wild flower can make us happy, and a little secret can make us whisper among our friends.

At that time, the sky was bluer than the sea, the water was clearer than jade, the heart was cleaner than white paper, and people were happier than birds at that time. We chased with fish and shrimp in the stream, we had fun with wild birds in the fields, and we fought the unknown bug in the woods. We are naive and lovely, we are naughty, we are naughty, we will learn from adults to teach our younger brothers and sisters, we will say the code that only we know, and we will take a long bamboo pole to pick the bird's nest on the big tree in the house of our uncle next door. We can learn to bark like cats, jump like frogs, swim like fish, and play all kinds of animals.

At that time, there are too many good things left to our memories, memories, memories!

Author: depressed fish