花开花落的季节， 
                                            流水的岁月
                                            却冲不淡变不了的思念。

                                            人来人往的擦肩，
                                            远逝的风景
                                            却带不走消散不了的别离。

                                            这零度的青春写在苍老的边缘，
                                            刻骨的回忆
                                            又见那个写诗的少年。
 
                                            可是回首已不见的往事，
                                            将会在哪年哪月
                                            在哪个地方相见。

                                             只有那段苦涩的青春，
                                             那段流年
                                             写在少年诗的字里行间。 

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