The tranquility of Midnight makes thoughts like running water, and the flowers of time bloom quietly at this time. It always wanted to listen to some sounds, whether it was the sound of crickets or the soft snore, because a story was generated from it. The story was always so soft, like a child’s hand touching my forehead, tender pleasant. Twenty-four years have passed. Thinking about it carefully, I haven’t had time to have a complete memory. My heart is pounding at this moment, just like an ignorant love. Yes, this is my second love, I dated with my previous days here-a photo album with Yellow Pages lay quietly beside my pillow. I stretched out my hand and gently hugged it into my arms, then opened it trembling. There is a young voice of the little tigers in the 1980 s in the mobile phone. Now the Tiger team has become the Tiger Team. Seeing their no longer vigorous posture and even some funny actions in the Spring Festival gala, they couldn’t help laughing. As time goes by, the edges and corners of youth have been weathered. Today, when the crops are covered, more maturity, less impulse, more responsibility and less carelessness. After 80 s, they had already gone three times in a flash. Looking back, those crooked footprints were still left on the beach of memory, and I didn’t know when they would disappear. Now my child lay beside me quietly and fell asleep, with a happy smile on the corner of his mouth and his little hands tightly grasping my arm. I thought, maybe the dream that made him smile, It’s just what I did when I was a child. My youth has continued. Are you afraid of going into the autumn ahead? The silence of the night is a soft Misty Poem… Wash and sleep, tomorrow is another story

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