In the depths of the hidden path of memory, is there a touch of warm light and shadow that quietly awakens the innocent years? It was a small tricycle carrying carefree laughter and dreams of adventure, like a time machine, shuttling between the bluestone pavement and the lush trees. Each of its spokes records our immature steps; Every bell rings, the ballad of childhood echoes. In those simple times, it was not only our mount, but also an invaluable companion, accompanying us through countless bright afternoons and starry nights. Now, when we close our eyes again, the innocence and happiness still seem to be within reach, and the little tricycle is forever parked in the harbor of the soul, becoming the most tender memory chapter in life.
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