The begonia flowers in front of the door are blooming again, and the tree is full of life. Like red clouds falling from the sky, the fire-like color fills my heart and cannot be dissipated for a long time. I looked around, looking around, for the familiar figure under the tree, but I couldn't find it. I heard: A few months ago, you left quietly. At that time, I thought the crabapples were still withered branches and leaves...
Intention: