Broken Willows and Golden Years of Shu

The wind blew and the begonias fell all over the ground. She stood under the tree, looking at the butterflies on her fingertips as if she was worried. He once said he would come back when the crabapples bloom again. Now the flowers bloom and fall, year after year. She picked up a wisp of spring breeze, but could no longer wait for the person who broke the willow and blew it gently. The years are pure, only my thoughts wander with the passing years.