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昔日崭新的课桌,如今多了些划痕,昔日绿色的单杠上,又爬了些铜锈,陪伴我三年的墙也刷了一次又一次。又是一年夏日炎炎,又是一次别离悲欢。我们没有眼泪,只有静默。他皱着眉,一如既往地搞怪。我脑海里出现的,是我与他曾经的那么多的笑。他爱笑,站在那里,他似乎本身就是个笑点。他坏坏地拍着我的肩,我们微笑着相互贬损。他迎着风,扬起秀气的脸庞,眼里和嘴角弥漫着清澈的笑意。毕业那天,他与我漫步在黑夜。他搂着我尔互相笑骂着。
The old brand new desk, now more scratches, the green bar in the past, and climbed some rust, accompanied my three-year wall brush again and again. Summer is another year of inflammation, but also a time away from joys and sorrows. We have no tears, only silence. He frowned, as always, Funny. What appeared in my mind was how many laughs I had with him. He loves to laugh and stand there, and he seems to be a joke in itself. He patted my shoulder badly, and we smiled and devalued each other. He greets the wind, raised delicate face, eyes and mouth filled with a clear smile. Graduation day, he and I walk in the night. He hugged me and laughed at each other.