There will always be a day when you love me, and I can wait for your love to grow slowly. Aren't the handful of flowers in your hand also seeds planted in April and blooming in June? Now I have planted seeds all over my heart, and at least one or two will always take root and sprout. The flowers that bloom are not love, but maybe a little like. A violet that bloomed in front of my grave is a relic of love. You will always take a look at it. Your look is worth all my troubles. What does death mean? You will love me one day.