人生都有初恋,逝去了更珍贵。即使额头刻上皱纹,发际爬满白霜,但藏在心灵深处的初恋,永远抹不去忆还甜,让人感到阵阵温馨。有时,初恋是一封情书,一次约会或许还是一趟舞会。一个亲吻,但在我生活的那片土地上,在已经逝去的岁月中,初恋曾经是那样的单调与笨拙,如春雨中柳枝上绽出的新芽,娇嫩但默默无闻;象太湖里对对追逐的自帆,奔放又含而不露。暖烘烘的茶灶间挤 First love in life, lost more precious. Even forehead wrinkled, hair covered with hoarfrost, but hidden in the hearts of the first love, never erase sweet memories, people feel bursts of warmth. Sometimes, first love is a love letter, a date may be a dance. A kiss, but in the land where I live, in the days that have passed, first love was once so dull and clumsy, like the sprouts of spring willow branches, delicate but obscure; like the Taihu Lake pair to chase The self-sailing, bold and without exception. Warm tea room squeeze crowded