looking down at every passing person

Even tree-lined blink of an eye, bare branches long gone. Walking down the road, he saw the brown flowers that fell on the ground, and looked up to see the tall, tufted flowers on the branches. Plane on the lilac flowers, hanging in the treetops. Like that arrogant princess, looking down at every passing person, everyone came to this tree, looking up at her beauty.
Indus flowers are beautiful, the United States is very special. Her flower is like a skirt. The fragrance of the flower is especially charming, and you can discern it all at once, that's her unique aroma. However, you can not describe the kind of special taste, fragrant and not greasy, resentment and quiet, elegant and noble.
I can not find a suitable word to describe the taste. Only quietly admire her tall flowers, close your eyes and suck only once that year the taste. Every time, passing from here, I can not help but take a few mouthfuls. Afraid, the next time I see regret and regret.
This tree has taken root in my memory. When I was young, there were several such trees in front of my grandmother's house. On both sides of the road are growing well big plane trees, tall flowers seem to stand on the clouds, I looked up at her every time. Must first hand cover the sun, his eyes overlooking her beauty. Plane under the sun people dare not look straight!
I like to walk around that path, stepping on the withered Indus flowers. Winter, stepping on those dry leaves, creak sound. It seems as if every leaf is in its own unique way, telling me their experience, telling me the happiness and secrets I see on the branches that I can not see.
Today, my grandmother has gone for six years, I have for a long, long time did not go through the childhood forgetful that the path under the plane trees. However, I love the plane tree deeper and deeper. Every time I see the plane tree. I will think of summer, my grandmother and sit under the parasol tree shade. The plane tree is particularly tall, two adults are endless. My compact body, covered by her tightly. I like to hide in the tree and her grandmother hide and seek, every time I hear grandma loud laughter, I am particularly happy.
Looking at the front of the plane trees, though, not as tall as memory, but smell the familiar taste, my heart could not say joy. Grandma, hope in another world, you will be happy. Hope, there is also a plane tree, allowing you to sit in the summer shade, enjoy the shade.
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