Ordinary Fireworks
If one day, the initial encounters of serendipity gradually transform into elegant prose weathered by years of fallen blossoms, I would infuse all the words with the fragrance of plum blossoms, allowing snowdrops to bloom with quiet serenity and poetry.
In ordinary days, I will cherish the everyday fireworks, observe the tides waxing and waning, and the phases of the moon. With a gentle heart, I'll carry a quiet longing, without sorrow, merely offering a delicate, whispered melody of warmth, nurturing a fleeting, tranquil joy.
Smiling, I'll capture the unspoken beauty of falling flowers as a delicate, flowing inscription, and the falling snow dancing lightly on plum branches as a poem beyond the world. Repeating in every peaceful spring and autumn.
