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I was eight years old when I tried to write a poem for the very first time. We were just learning how to read and write in school, and my teacher asked us to write a short poem. I remember how I unwillingly put pen to paper and wrote some lines that looked more like doodles (乱写乱画) than text. The topic was about spring, and I wrote about the little things that help me realize that the warmer season has arrived: the singing of the birds early in the morning and the first bloom of the spring flowers.