Spring. The maple red has long since disappeared, leaving only scars. A few shades of green have broken through the trauma and are eager to try. The vitality that is about to erupt is deeply wrapped in branches, becoming more and more full and more lovable. Maple spread out its limbs, and large and small scars appeared in front of me, as if it had dried up-but it was also hidden in Miri, Malaysia to be displayed. Not because of shocking scars and tearful beauty. "Calendar, won't you stay and have a look?" Sue said softly, "Beauty always goes through pain." Sue seems to blend in with that tree, and they have an indescribable similarity.
Maple trees are splashed with green in summer, and the green is too thick to melt. Sue said that she likes maple trees in summer best, but I don't think so. Now I understand, this kind of green, "Qiao if Zhi Tao three spring, element if chrysanthemum nine autumn".
Autumn. It is the maple season and the red expectation that has made me wait for a year. Maple is red and vigorous, really lively and active. I once wondered if the bride under the red veil was as fierce as the sun, "like a woman with a flowing waist and a bright moon in her ear, pointing to an onion and a mouth like a pearl." And then what?
In winter, I dialed the globe in my hand and asked Sue, "Are you really leaving?" Pure text digress: "Maple leaves, no matter how red, will eventually leave the mother tree. I also like maple leaves in winter. " I finally caught a glimpse of the trunk of a dead tree that seemed to have disappeared. Without that exciting red, she looks thinner and more mottled. "Is she still alive?" I swallowed. "Of course, it will be as red as next year." Sue's pale face looked firm, and the branches had begun to bark. A gust of wind blew, and several thinner branches fell and shook a few times. I can't help wanting to go up and give me a hand. Sue, stop me: "Trust her, I will definitely stand up." It's hard for me to believe that a "weak willow helps the wind" like Sue would say such a thing! The deep scars of maple trees beaten by the wind have embedded a lot of strength, dignity and hope. She never fell! Sue looked straight at the maple tree, and I only dared to peek. Its naked but proudly standing body makes me imagine a devout Buddhist, kowtowing step by step.
Sue is gone after all, and Feng is red after all. I was left alone looking at the maple tree-the rickety but determined back, and the tide of shame and inferiority flooded my body and mind. When we have already gone to the so-called "struggle" for scores, fame and money, I am still willing to remember the maple tree that interprets dignity with blood and tears. (365 composition/Wen Zuo/)
What is red, I know better.