我踏著溶溶月色，徜徉在校園的林蔭道上，這是我青春時的漫長道路。 還記得嗎？那過去了的十七歲，那苦澀而又充滿熱情的春天。 「這朵花送給你」！ 我便看到那瘦弱的小手高舉著一朵紅色的芭蕉花。那朵花是那年秋季最後開放的一朵，原本孤立在一叢老枝上。我便伸過手去，小心的接了過來，強按住內心的狂跳，若無其事的笑了。 那一天，是我幾年後還清楚記得的一天。那一天很冷，昏黃的太陽沒有熱度，卻讓我感激異常。我滿身溫暖，我的貧瘠而且帶了些許悽涼的青春終於染上一片陽光。 記得嗎？教室前的那幾顆大梧桐還沒抽芽時，你走到我面前，眼裡含著那麼深的憂鬱對我說，媽媽又病了。然後，你把眼睛投向那枯枝，牙齒緊緊地咬著嘴唇，似乎那經歷過酷寒的梧桐會在你眼光的逼視中吐出綠色。生活並不輕鬆，雖然我們把未來編織得天衣無縫，雖然我們的年齡正灑滿陽光。我們朦朧的覺得，明天不應該是這樣！ 梧桐吐綠的節奏中，我們聽到了春天的歌聲。記得你常坐在位子上雙手託著不施粉黛的小臉看著窗外，眼睛裡有一絲驚奇，一絲笑意，儘管憂鬱永遠在眼睛深處藏著。天空永遠是那樣的廣闊，永遠屬於每一個人，它在你孤獨時給你淡籃的幻想，在你痛苦時給你燃燒的太陽。即使是陰雨連綿的日子。窗外是自由的天地，它永遠屬於你的眼睛。 還記得那年，我們常在樹下尋找天空，尋找周末晚上的星星，在尋找中開始我們騎馬奔馳的身影，大西北的沙漠裡我們能不能聽到駝鈴？大興安嶺的松濤肯定會將我們淹沒，藍色的大海肯定能揚起我們青春的風帆,因為我們正處在夢想、追求的年華！ 那時，星星記住了你我的許諾，梧桐樹上的小鳥也無聲息地在沉思。 夏天是短暫的，如同幻想一樣，不會長久。梧桐樹的葉子飄落了，落下無數的悽涼。你我各自考上了不同的學校，雖然我們都知道會有這一天，雖然我們都知道梧桐開不過冬季。但從沒想過這個夏天會這麼短暫。我們道別後，我便默無聲息地離開了學校，流著眼淚走在我每天必走的路上，漫長而孤獨。 路越走越遙遠，記憶也越來越淡漠，陳舊而皺於模糊，甚至要消失了。但我是個很懷舊的人，卻常為了一時的感動去做一些莫名其妙的事，這或許算是我的痛苦之處。雖然到現在，梧桐樹已綠過幾次，雖然星星也不再屬於十七歲，雖然大海仍是那麼神秘，但有一天，我會去實現那美麗的夢，只是不知道那雙憂鬱的眼睛還能不能看見。 幾年以後，我工作放假回來，特意繞道幾十裡去看她。只是她家的房子已是破舊不堪了。我背著行囊，站在她家門前的公路上大聲喊她的名字。 公路上沒人，她家的門緊閉著。 冬天的風很大，將我的聲音撕成碎片，沙啞的聲音空空地傳播在冷氣裡。我最後看了一眼她家房簷飄動的布條，默默的離開了那裡。 我其實想得到，她家早就搬走了，但我仍然想去，並且去了。 不是為了看她一眼，只是僅僅想去，因為想去。I walk in the moonlight and walk on the avenue of the campus, which is the long road of my youth. Remember? The past seventeen years, the bitter and passionate spring. "This flower is for you"! I saw that thin hand holding a red banana flower. That flower was the last one to open that autumn, originally isolated in a clump of old branches. Then I stretched out my hand and carefully took it over. I forced my heart to jump wildly and laughed as if nothing had happened. That day is a day that I still remember clearly a few years later. That day was very cold, the yellow sun had no heat, but I was very grateful. I am full of warmth, my barren and with a little desolate youth, finally caught a piece of sunshine. Remember? When the big Wutong trees in front of the classroom were not sprouting, you came to me, with deep melancholy in my eyes, and told me that my mother was ill again. Then you throw your eyes on the dead branch, and your teeth are biting your lips tightly. It seems that the cold Wutong trees will spit out the green in your eyes. Life is not easy, although we weave the future seamless, although our age is full of sunshine. We feel hazy, tomorrow should not be like this! In the rhythm of Wutong green, we heard the song of spring. I remember that you often sit in your seat, holding your little face in both hands and looking out of the window, there is a trace of surprise and a trace of smile in your eyes, although the depression is always hidden in the depths of your eyes. The sky is always so vast, always belongs to everyone, it gives you the illusion of light basket when you are lonely, gives you the burning sun when you are in pain. Even on rainy days. Outside the window is the free world, it always belongs to your eyes. I still remember that year, we used to look for the sky under the trees, looking for the stars at the weekend night. In the process of searching, we started riding and galloping. Can we hear camel bells in the desert of Northwest China? The Great Xing'an Mountains will certainly submerge us, and the blue sea will certainly raise the sails of our youth, because we are in the age of dream and pursuit! At that time, the stars remembered your promise, and the birds on the Wutong tree silently contemplating. Summer is short, like fantasy, not long. The leaves of Wutong tree fall down, and there are countless desolation. You and I have gone to different schools in our own examinations, though we all know that it will be there, though we all know that Wutong is not open in winter. But I never thought this summer would be so short. After we said goodbye, I left the school silently and walked on the road that I had to walk every day with tears, long and lonely. The road is more and more distant, memory is also more and more indifferent, old and wrinkled in fuzzy, and even disappear. But I am a very nostalgic person, but often for a moment moved to do some inexplicable things, this may be my pain. Although the Wutong tree has been green several times, although the stars are no longer seventeen years old, although the sea is still mysterious, but one day, I will realize that beautiful dream, but I do not know whether those melancholy eyes can still see. A few years later, when I came back from work and vacation, I made a detour to see her. It's just that her house is dilapidated. I stood on the road in front of her house with my luggage on my back, shouting her name. There was no one on the road and her door was closed. The wind in winter is very strong, tearing my voice to pieces, and the hoarse voice spreads in the air conditioning. I finally took a look at the cloth floating on the eaves of her house and left there in silence. I could have imagined that her family had already moved away, but I still wanted to go and went. Not to see her, just want to go, because want to go. 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