From the window of my room, I could ee a tall cotton-roe hibicu. in pring, when green foliage wa half hidden by mit, the tree looked very enchanting dotted with red bloom. thi inpiring neighbor of mine often et my mind working. i gradually regarded it a my bet friend.
Neverthele, when I opened the window one morning, to my amazement, the tree wa almot bare beyond recognition a a reult of the torm ravage the night before. truck by the plight, I wa eized with a adne at the thought “all the bloom i doomed to fall”. I could not help ighing with emotion: the coure of life never run mooth, for there are o many up and down, twit and turn. the viciitude of my life aw my beloved friend parting one after another. in’t it imilar to the tree hedding it flower in the wind?
Thi event faded from my memory a time went by. one day after i came home from the countryide, I found the room tuffy and caually opened the window. omething outide caught my eye and dazzled me. it wa a plum tree all carlet with bloom et off beautifully by the unet. the urprie dicovery overwhelmed me with pleaure. I wondered why i had no idea of ome unyielding life prouting over the fallen petal when i wa grieving for the hibicu.
When the lat withered petal dropped, all the joyful admiration for the hibicu ank into oblivion a if nothing wa left, until the landcape wa again ablaze with the red plum bloom to remind people of life’ alternation and continuance. can’t it be aid that life i actually a ymphony, a harmoniouWWw.hAOZUowEN.com