The begonia wind in my heart blows the petals like broken time, and your smile sways among the flying flowers, becoming the most beautiful beauty in my life. In my dreams, there is always a crabapple. This crabapple stood quietly in front of the building, with its gray trunk and steep branches, unremarkable all winter long. The belated spring awakened her from hibernation overnight. Facing the brilliant flowers around her, she showed no sign of weakness. She silently absorbed the essence of winter in her body and bloomed into a pink-white stamen. This flower was not eye-catching at first, but one night, I happened to walk by the tree, and I couldn't help but be moved by the faint fragrance. This fragrance was not like the fragrance in the world, it was light and thin, just like She is as petal-like, with no generous descriptions or gorgeous colors. She deeply attracted my heart just because of her elegance and transcendence. During the day, the petals are exceptionally bright in the sunlight, and flutter and dance lightly when the breeze blows. As I walked under the tree, fallen flowers rustled under my feet. The ordinary land has the aura of Guidian orchid palace because of the petals. Let her bloom to her heart's content. This is the freedom she deserves after a winter of silence. Then her figure appeared in my dream, illusory, swaying, misty and uncertain. The only thing that remained unchanged was that beautiful smile, floating lightly in the distant horizon, like a peerless beauty who spent all her life's efforts and proudly The backbone holds up the unfulfilled dreams of the previous life. But how could I have imagined that she would be so unlucky. The pattering spring rain drenched the earth. I thought of Begonia, so I went to see her again, but from a distance I saw colorful fallen flowers all over the ground. There are no more beautiful smiling faces, no more swaying flower branches, no more beautiful figures trembling with laughter in the wind, no more faces gazing at each other. My heart trembled: Why is the life of beauty so short? Did the flowers that she worked so hard to cultivate all winter just disappear like this? I don’t want poets to chant “turning into mud and dust” for her. I just want her to live well in this world. But how could we know that she would disappear so easily? She left silently before showing her grace to the world, full of resentment, and turned into dust. Who is a passer-by in someone’s life, who is the only one in someone’s life, I screamed painfully in my heart, but no one could listen. There is a beautiful woman in the north, left behind and independent. Looking at the Qingren city and then the Qingren country, would you rather not know the Qingcheng and the Qingguo? It is hard to find a beautiful woman again... In the sunset, the cuckoo cries out the last drop of blood, and the bright red seeps into the soil, Maybe it will turn into a fragrant soul on the branches in the coming year? I prayed silently in my heart. Begonias flourish and wither in dreams; dreams become beautiful because of begonias.
Dreams and begonias are as psychedelic as Zhuang Sheng's transformation into butterflies; begonias and dreams will never fail in the cycle of my life...