Noise1

 The wind that year was very noisy, blowing the skirt corners and the girl' s youth. Occasionally, I turned out some poems from my home.
I remembered that it was written for a boy in the third year of junior high school. 
The girl' s heartbeat is filled with every morning, noon and sunset. 
In the early morning, accompanied by the crisp birdsong and the light ray of sunshine, although we did not meet, we walked the same road; 
At noon, I heard the rustle of students on the test paper. I wrote down his name on the draft paper;