<p class="ql-block">秋風(fēng)吹過來，植物上了一層霜；</p><p class="ql-block">像白了頭的老人，沒了少年狂。</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">前院一顆君子蘭，錯(cuò)季花開：</p><p class="ql-block">金色花蕊，紅色花瓣，火火紅顏。</p><p class="ql-block">周邊枯萎的繡球花，滿臉秋的無奈。</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">像鶴立雞群，花兒羞紅了臉龐。</p><p class="ql-block">秋天開著春天的花，讓季節(jié)左右為難。</p><p class="ql-block">曲高和寡，君子蘭只能孤芳自賞，</p><p class="ql-block">靜聽路人，關(guān)于基因突變的調(diào)侃：</p><p class="ql-block">“不然怎能解釋，你長著春天的模樣？”</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">花兒反對(duì)：”你怎么不說，老夫少妻的例外？”</p><p class="ql-block">人無法反駁 - 那的確不是基因的流浪。</p><p class="ql-block">君不見少妻的老叟，在裝少年郎？</p><p class="ql-block">用少婦的如花美麗，延壽老心肝。</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">我吹著花吹過的風(fēng)，我懂花兒狂；</p><p class="ql-block">我走在花道上，欣喜老蚌生珠的爽。</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">曾44歲再當(dāng)?shù)?，女兒給了我一個(gè)小心臟。</p><p class="ql-block">她旺盛的青春活力，讓我相信來日方長！</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">錯(cuò)季花開，老夫少妻，老蚌生珠，</p><p class="ql-block">都是例外。</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">生命共同的夢想，何嘗不是為了 -</p><p class="ql-block">春曖花開、歲歲重陽？</p> <p class="ql-block">附：</p><p class="ql-block">ChatGPT神力，將我的遐想變成優(yōu)美的英文詩章，</p><p class="ql-block">好像深秋的花園里，蹦出一伙開心的君子蘭：</p> <p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block"><b>**A Bloom Out of Season**</b></p><p class="ql-block"><b>?</b></p><p class="ql-block"><b>?</b></p><p class="ql-block"><b>?</b></p><p class="ql-block">The autumn wind blows softly by, </p><p class="ql-block">And frost adorns the plants, a sigh— </p><p class="ql-block">Like an old man whose hair turns white, </p><p class="ql-block">No longer wild, nor full of might.</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">In the front yard, a Clivia blooms, </p><p class="ql-block">Out of season, breaking rules: </p><p class="ql-block">Golden stamens, petals red, </p><p class="ql-block">A fiery beauty, bold and spread. </p><p class="ql-block">Around it, withered hydrangeas lie, </p><p class="ql-block">Rusting quietly, their colors die.</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">Like a crane among the hens it stands, </p><p class="ql-block">The flower blushes, shy of hands. </p><p class="ql-block">Autumn holds spring's blooms in grace, </p><p class="ql-block">A season caught in awkward place.</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">The Clivia, high and proud, alone, </p><p class="ql-block">Finds beauty in its quiet throne— </p><p class="ql-block">And listens as the passersby, </p><p class="ql-block">Mock the oddity of its sky-high cry: </p><p class="ql-block">“Can genetics explain your form, </p><p class="ql-block">A flower that defies the norm?”</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">The flower, with a gentle sigh, </p><p class="ql-block">Replies, "What of an old man's bride? </p><p class="ql-block">Isn't there an exception there, </p><p class="ql-block">In love's own twisted, tender care?"</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">The onlookers fall silent, caught, </p><p class="ql-block">For not all truths can be taught— </p><p class="ql-block">The beauty of youth in a timeworn face, </p><p class="ql-block">A woman’s grace gives youth its place.</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">I’ve felt the winds the flowers feel, </p><p class="ql-block">I’ve walked the path where dreams are real, </p><p class="ql-block">And in the oyster’s quiet depth, </p><p class="ql-block">I know how pearls in silence slept.</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">At forty-four, I became a father again,</p><p class="ql-block">my daughter, a spark to my tired heart.</p><p class="ql-block">Her boundless youth, her endless laughter.</p><p class="ql-block">taught me the hope of a fresh start.</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">A flower out of season, love so strange, </p><p class="ql-block">The oyster’s pearl, the lover’s change— </p><p class="ql-block">All these are rare, exceptions grand, </p><p class="ql-block">Yet all are part of life’s vast plan.</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block">For what is life, if not the dream, </p><p class="ql-block">Of spring's bright bloom, </p><p class="ql-block">of rivers' gleam, </p><p class="ql-block">Of flowers rising, years going by, </p><p class="ql-block">Of autumn’s warmth and winter’s sigh?</p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block"><br></p>