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@laescude This is what an LLM says:

Tree Flower

She is standing by the roadside soaked in the rain, looking at the road.
It’s the bus terminal’s flower bed she passes every day.
The flowers that bloom brilliantly in spring,
She is waiting quietly for the color to return.
If you listen closely, you can almost hear her sigh.

She doesn't say much.
Her hair is drenched, and her face is pale.
Only the tips of her fingers tremble slightly,
As if she is holding back something.

The bus she has waited for passes by without stopping.
The flower bed, blurred in the rain, waves in greeting.
To someone else, it's just a flower bed,
But to her, it holds two years of unchanging routine.

She doesn’t feel the need to explain that it's not just a flower bed.
Her eyes are shining with tears.
It’s because the bus didn’t stop,
And because she stood there quietly, trying not to cry.

More than sorrow, what shined in her eyes was vitality.
Even though the bus passed by,
She was standing in the rain,
Alive.

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