Modern poetry about friends, modern poetry about friends

Modern poems about friends are as follows:

You can't find it again in a familiar city.

Your breath can only meet in dreams.

Tears of encounter, who listened to me.

You met me last night.

It's a lot of memories.

It's a lot of memories.

It's no match for a low grave.

Who put twenty years of rape flowers yellow.

Make your wall.

I put eighteen years of friendship in the sky.

To whom to look. Grab a limb and mourn the loess.

That cup of bitter heart wine.

Friend! Knock on the coffin and come out with me to drink or not.

The cherry blossoms are white, and I wave goodbye to my hometown.

Your grave has stretched out its hands to detain me.

Have a drink at the bosom bar.

Trains traveling far away do not stop for anyone.

I can only take one more look at the scenery that reminisces you.

Buried in my heart touches my heart.

The train went longitudinally, where we met.

In this familiar city.

I miss you at night.

But I can't smell the slightest breath of you.

The only thing I know is your train.

They have sailed to heaven.

So are you also wandering at the mouth of heaven?

I wanted to wave my hand and say goodbye.

My cherished friendship is a work of art.

I unintentionally picked it up from the waves of time.

Hung on a hurried life stagecoach.

Sometimes it almost drifts away with the wind, but it is not lost.

and was emotionally handedly under a chance encounter.

Repeatedly excavated, the longer it goes, the more valuable it feels.

Because it reverberates with my lost youth.

It also gives me a taste of the past.

A delicate sculpture that receives epistle and empathy.

Placed in the window at the end of the old year, not only embellished with loneliness.

And it reflects the world outside the window like a mirror.

It makes that rough world seem so soft.

Parting is the kite with a broken string.

Parting is the second hand that moves forward.

Perhaps, parting is the sun that sets in the west.

It is Taiwan that has not yet returned.

Whether we can say goodbye or not, there is always an invisible thread.

Holding our hearts tightly is the thread of friendship.

Modern poems about friends are as follows:You can't find it again in a familiar city.

Your breath can only meet in dreams.

Tears of encounter, who listened to me.

You met me last night.

It's a lot of memories.

It's a lot of memories.

It's no match for a low grave. Sincerely.

Who put twenty years of rape flowers yellow.

Make your wall.

I put eighteen years of friendship in the sky.

To whom to look. Grab a handful of loess and mourn.

That cup of bitter heart wine.

Friend! Knock on the coffin and come out with me to drink or not.

The cherry blossoms are white, and I wave goodbye to my hometown.

Your grave has stretched out its hands to detain me. Xiangru.

Have a drink at the bosom bar.

Trains traveling far away do not stop for anyone.

I can only take one more look at the scenery that reminisces you.

Buried in my heart touches my heart.

The train went longitudinally, where we met.

In this familiar city.

I miss you at night.

But I can't smell the slightest breath of you.

The only thing I know is your train.

They have sailed to heaven.

So are you also wandering at the mouth of heaven?

He wanted to wave goodbye to me.

My cherished friendship is a work of art.

I unintentionally picked it up from the waves of time.

Hung on a hurried life stagecoach.

Sometimes it almost drifts away with the wind, but it is not lost.

and was emotionally handedly under a chance encounter.

Repeatedly excavated, the longer it goes, the more valuable it feels.

Because it reverberates with my lost youth.

It also gives me a taste of the past.

A delicate sculpture that receives epistle and empathy.

Placed in the window at the end of the old year, not only embellished with loneliness.

And it reflects the world outside the window like a mirror.

It makes that rough world seem so soft.

Parting is the kite with a broken string.

Parting is the second hand that moves forward.

Perhaps, parting is the sun that sets in the west.

It is Taiwan that has not yet returned.

Goodbye or not, there is always a thick line without beams.

Holding our hearts tightly is the thread of friendship.