It s the third year of junior high school, kneeling and begging for a modern poem, anxious!

Song 1: Once upon a time I fell in love with you – write about my addiction.

Once upon a time I fell in love with you.

It is the joy of being rewarded when you learn to sit for the first time.

It's still a little bit of palpitations when I write a pen for the first time.

In times of hesitation, I am attached to you.

Once upon a time I fell in love with you.

I don't know if it's the bewitchment of life.

It's still the slightest obsession that has always remained the same in my heart.

At the time of getting a little bit of achievement.

The first thing that comes to mind is always you.

Once upon a time I fell in love with you.

Is it the depth of your silence, or the soft fragrance between the paper and ink.

Is it fresh? It's still slightly sweet—

Once upon a time I fell in love with you.

Pillow companion Dream dance partner.

Every laughter, joy, every teardrop.

You can quietly know that I understand me, except for you-

Or ——— you

Maybe all this can only be your ———

Song 2: Books, the lamp of my life.

What is guiding my journey, even though I am always in a hurry, what is accompanying my soul, although I also have a wandering ......

Raise your eyes to the stars in the night, like the words in a book.

Tell me all the wisps of affection;

The clouds are misty month by month, and the joy of life is all in that tireless thirst.

It brings me laughter, it brings me eternity, it brings me confusion, it brings me misty ......It brings me freedom, brings me memory, brings me vigilance, and brings me vague enlightenment ......I don't know if I should think of her as a pillow or a gourmet plate, maybe she has always been a ——— for me

Does the third year of junior high school have a relationship with modern poetry?

Autumn Send away the last ray of fiery sunshine in summer, you take the hand of the seed, support all the way, and go through the length of the two seasons.

Just for, the fruits hanging high on the branches in the golden everywhere, and the honest smiles of the farmers on the edge of the fields.

I could clearly see that tears of joy were already in their eyes.

Finally, the ears of grain in the paddy field quietly climbed to the top of the head of the once grass seedling, and bent the leaves;

He also bends the reaper's back, and bends the slab.

You use a look after a harvest to comfort the sweat of the farmers who have been trekking hard for a long time.

The swallows flying south were also sent away by you to the treetops after the fallen leaves returned to their roots, and affectionately spit out a trace of white mist, covering their footprints home, leaving only the blue sky, a long and long memory.

Wildflowers bowed their heads.

Walk on a secluded path.

Bursts of square incense wafted in the wind.

Immediately refreshing.

It evokes new hope.

Follow the aroma. I saw a cluster of brightly colored wildflowers.

Standing upright in the wind.

Gently swaying. That strong perseverance.

That graceful gesture.

It seems to tell a paragraph.

Wind and rain course...

The night rain knocked on the window, and also woke up the sleep, and remembered in the rain, all kinds of dream-like past.