In March, the flowers are not open

After a winter of silence, the wind of March blew the wind's expectations, the grass looked out, the birds screamed on the branches, but the potted flowers on the balcony were still dead, like sleeping babies, and old people who seemed to be young. .

When the warm light first poured into this narrow lodge, only the potted flower seemed to be incompatible with the environment around it. The dry branches spread in the air, withered like the hands of the old man who was about to die, at the moment of touching the sun. Retracted. The window is always a boundary, dividing life and death, light and dark, and dividing the fortunes and misfortunes of this world.

Is it happy? Maybe, but as a plant, the unopened flower is always an irreparable regret. Especially in such a season, after a winter of hardships, anyone wants the flowers at the moment.

A few days later, the dry, dead branches were sprinkled with sporadic greens. Although they were not noticeable, they were always green. They were not good, but they grew slowly in the corner. It grows with its own happiness. It knows that this happiness may come late, but it is still a pleasure. No, the branches have a light powder.

But not everything is smooth sailing, life always wakes you up when you are intoxicated. The rain of the night knocked down the delicate buds. On the second day, the leaves on the balcony were frustrated, as if they were scattered with their own happiness, but they were always in tears. So, it continues to grow in the corner as always.

As for the later, I don’t really remember it, just remember it, in March, the flowers are not open.

The room is still cold and amazing, the potted flower is still in the corner of the rainy season, a shallow smile.

Third day: three seasons a year