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Many years ago,
a young man planted
several saplings near the corner.
Someday, this year,
some big and red flowers
are on the branches.
You can smell ,
the air is filled with faint fragrance
of those flowers.
I want to pick up some once,
and put them in the bottle.
Well, it says to me
" l'm a rose.I like here,
in the rain,or under the sun,
everything from the nature is OK,
but never in a bottle."
Sorry, my roses.
Maybe,I can see you
in the morning or in the afternoon,
even in the evening though the window .
I can see you everytime, till you
leave with the way just you like.
I should understand you:
No life, no happiness,
also no fragrance of a flower.
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