A woman is a flower, a flower that blooms in bright spring. The earth took off its wrapped winter clothes, and the spring breeze was busy cutting open the ribbons of warm curtains, bathed in the deep affection of the warm sun in spring, pear flowers put on white wedding dresses, and peach blossoms put on pink maternity dresses. They live up to the spring, presenting the most beautiful scenery to human beings and nature shyly and reserved. Their amazing charm awakens everything and leads the world of flower dance. Just as the mountain flowers are blooming, the pear blossoms are dying and the peach blossoms are dying. They hurried to take a curtain call in front of the big stage in spring, singing softly that "falling red is not a heartless thing, but turning into spring mud protects flowers more." Their departure brought pears and peaches covered with branches, which sublimated in spring and became sacred mothers. Therefore, flowers have a professional written definition: they are ornamental plants with abnormal short branches with reproductive functions.
A woman is a flower, a lotus flower blooming in the hot sun. Not only pure and pure, but also wise and dexterous. When the green lotus leaves are covered with the lotus pond like a jade plate, no matter how dark and dirty the bottom of the pond is, no matter whether the mud at the bottom of the pond is fat or thin, the lotus flowers stand out from the gap of the lotus leaves full of big beads and small beads with extraordinary wisdom and courage, and hold their heads high, giving people waves of beautiful coolness in the hot summer. It is light and elegant, pure and innocent. Scholars flocked to praise it, one after another from morning till night, and never stopped: Xiao He only showed sharp horns, beautiful water and lotus pond moonlight, and could never finish writing the beauty and painting the rhyme of lotus. Even the poems of the Tang and Song Dynasties, which bear a heavy historical context, can't hide the heroism of the lotus. Even if you put on the simplest suspender skirt, you can't hide its budding high-end atmosphere. How can large and small lotus ponds keep the beauty of lotus flowers, because it has conquered the whole summer.
A woman is a flower, a small wild chrysanthemum blooming in the Mid-Autumn Festival. It sweeps the leaves against the autumn wind, bears the whipping of cold dew and autumn frost, and blooms on hillsides, roadsides and Yuan Ye. Almost uncritical survival, carefree in most of the land of the motherland, without showing off, piously showing its loyalty to nature and confidently showing its extremely tenacious vitality. In the magnificent world of chrysanthemum, it is just a very humble little guy. However, it never fails to live up to the weak life endowed by nature, and strives to add a small color group to the golden season of harvest with its simple pale yellow, and add a small rice valley to the granary of harvest with its tiny body. It lives quietly, dedicating itself silently until the last moment of its life, and dedicating all its flowers and leaves to human beings without reservation, just like the deer chirping and eating the leaves of Artemisia annua, and finally making its strongest sound on the top of the world year after year.
A woman is a flower, a wintersweet blooming in the cold of March 9. When it opens, there is no noise of flowers in spring, summer and autumn. In the cold silence of winter, it faced the cold wind, sucked the biting ice and snow, stubbornly raised its little head and stood on the twigs of the trunk bit by bit. Without the green leaves, bright dresses, plain brown and purple, it was not beautiful at all, and its pointed and round head was smaller than that small wild chrysanthemum. They are in bud, half-open, or in full bloom. No matter what, they should pour out their feelings and release intoxicating fragrance from the biting cold. "A piece of red heart opens to the sun" is its persistent pursuit, "Death is also a ghost hero" is its noble character, a hero with a hundred flowers blooming, and it deserves it.
March is for women, and women are flowers in March. It is an unbeaten flower in four seasons, covered with a magnificent picture of vicissitudes of life, interpreting the beauty of the world.