I want to talk to spring

   I want to stand under a tree, listen to the rustling laughter of the trees tickled by the spring breeze, and talk to spring about the wind, about the feeling of it passing over my shoulder, about the ripples in my heart when it brushes against my fingertips. I want to extend from a tree to a cloud, a bird's song, a handful of fresh mud, a new swallow.

  Spring, I know I'm unusually verbose, but please believe in my sincerity, believe in my love and devotion to you. Before you, I don't want to be a mediocre person, ignorant, unproductive, and without possessions; I don't want to miss your charming face and intoxicating sunshine.

  I long to talk to spring, to vent the resentment suppressed for so long, to proclaim my New Year's ideals and plans to spring. I yearn for spring to give me more advice, more encouragement and inspiration. So that in this beautiful time of vibrant colors, I won't be misled by the rich fragrance of flowers and stray from the right path.

  Ah! In spring, I long to wander through every corner, to touch every blade of grass, every leaf, every pebble, and to have a long, thorough conversation with you.

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