Clover

 　　A cool windowsill, bright sunshine, fresh air, and meticulous care are undoubtedly what flowers yearn for most. And so, a clover was growing vigorously, and during these days I began to love it.

　　This pot of clover grew very lushly, each stem growing individually, unlike other flowers where the stems are connected. But because the roots were intertwined, it was able to produce pink flowers. Each clover stem had three leaves at the tip, and the small pink petals had five petals each. The stems varied in height, with the middle higher and the sides lower, forming a hemisphere of clover. Combined with the pink flowers, it looked exceptionally lovely, and I instantly fell in love with it.

　　Perhaps you don't know where this flower came from; my teacher brought it to me in fifth grade, and I loved it at first sight, so I took meticulous care of it. Every day I watered it with my leftover water. Seeing the other flowers, like jealous young girls, vying for my favor, I felt a strange sense of justice; the scales of my heart always tipped in its favor, it just wasn't fair. But I never imagined that day would come.

　　On the last day of the semester, as the school was moving, the teacher distributed flowers to the students. I immediately spotted the clover and rushed to the back to protect it. Before I could even speak, the teacher gave it to my classmate. I pleaded with the teacher, "Teacher, can I have this plant?" I looked at her, hoping she would say yes, but fate was against it. "No, your home is a bit far; the plant will freeze to death by the time you get there," the teacher said decisively. This made me feel the somber atmosphere, and even more so, the snowstorm outside the window. Drifting in the air, my heart, like a pure white snowflake, falls to the ground, leaving me feeling empty. The chill of winter seeps into my heart, making me shiver in the cold. The silvery-white ground mirrors the blankness of my mind. Watching the clover being taken away, I remain silent. "Goodbye, clover, I still love you, forever..."

　　This potted plant is only one percent of all the flowers I've ever seen, but it's the one I love most. I've cared for it more than any other flower. Losing it feels like my heart has been hollowed out and is bleeding! My attachment to it might be because we struggled together in the sunshine! It bloomed with beautiful flowers! Or perhaps I used its flowers to achieve remarkable success—that's my love for the clover.