I miss the topic composition 1 I'm sitting on the sofa under the light. It's already evening. The odds and ends of the day made me sleepy sitting on the sofa, just wanting to lean back quietly. Leaning on the pillow, all the body and mind have a rest at this time. I don't know why, I suddenly have a feeling I've never had before. I miss my classmates, my teachers … I miss, miss the stories that happened with my classmates in the past, miss my unforgettable teachers … everything is so memorable.
Miss these, I have a feeling of crying. Tears blurred my eyes. My heart is sour and sweet, and I feel a lot. Miss these, scenes of the past emerge in my mind, and the signal of missing is gradually strengthened. It's good to recall the past! Looking back at part of my memory box, the first thing is to miss my classmates and combine them into a collective classmate.
Once I opened the gift bag and found a folded piece of paper inside. Fold this origami gently, and you'll see a greeting drawn in bright colors: Merry Christmas! The English letters of Christmas are drawn in the middle. Also use a pencil to outline the edges of these wishes and letters, making them three-dimensional. This gift was given to me by a classmate the day before Christmas. I know, this classmate made it herself, and the bread here contains her heart. Maybe this is not strange to others, but it is precious to me. Even if I give you a wild chrysanthemum, it's a gift. How can I forget this relationship with my classmates? Give someone a rose, my hand is fragrant, I can feel it.
I miss the time with my classmates very much, and I remember the ups and downs that happened. However, I can't forget the teacher who taught us knowledge. Similarly, I miss them. Looking back on the teachers in the memory area, I remember my head teacher He Laoshi the most. He Laoshi, a tall man with glasses, is very authoritative in our class. As soon as He Laoshi came, the noisy classroom immediately quieted down. I have great respect for He Laoshi in my heart, although He Laoshi embarrassed me. Once upon a time, He Laoshi criticized me publicly. In the past, He Laoshi pointed out my mistake. From He Laoshi, I know how shallow my extracurricular knowledge is. Looking back on what I did before, I really lost willingly. From He Laoshi, I don't regret what I did in my positive opportunity. Thank you, teacher, for letting me realize how inadequate I am. I miss these unforgettable teachers.
Sitting on the sofa, recalling the past and thinking about everything around me. Blue sky and white clouds are long and the night sky is starry. It's still boring to look at them. Miss again, wait again, and get a new feeling.
In retrospect, if you savor it carefully, you will find how beautiful it is. Miss, how nice!
I missed the topic of composition 2. Passing by the old campus by car, you don't seem to feel its change, but you can't help feeling a little sad in your heart.
The big weather-beaten pine tree facing the east of the school still stands in the middle of the campus. Dark green pine trees reunite on the branches, and there are several old pine cones hidden in the dense needles. Between the branches and leaves, several cuckoos stood quietly, staring into the distance. Looking at the dusk in front of me, I feel that there seems to be a lack of life on campus. Although the flowers and trees are still full of vitality, full of green, but there is no children's happy laughter, the little angel running freely under the big tree, the sound of reading in the classroom.
Looking at the neat rows of classrooms on both sides of pine trees, I seem to hear the sound of reading; Seeing the children holding books, I was intoxicated by the smell: I smelled the children's strong fragrance, the fragrance of leaves overflowing and the faint fragrance of flowers. ...
By the open playground, dozens of camphor trees exude a unique fragrance, and the grass under the trees is lush and full of vitality. A few blue flowers stretch out on the green grass, which makes people fondle. The crystal dew moistens every grass and tree here. On the playground, several rusty basketball stands are extremely lonely. Back in those days, I played happily under the basket and threw the basketball up. It always falls on the basket with a bang and then rolls into it. I like the sound.
The arrival of small insects has added a lot of interest to this empty campus. Look! Several grasshoppers are alive and kicking, dragonflies are flying freely in the air, and butterflies are resting behind petals. Hey! What is that? It's mantis! I really want to get off and catch up. It is a boy's favorite. If I had encountered such a scene a year ago, I would have jumped at it regardless.
I have lived here for four years. I had interesting scientific experiments, a lively class, lively little insects and green trees ... they accompanied me for four years. In these unforgettable four years, they helped me, inspired me, guided me and gave me happiness and hope. I have no chance to come here again. I want to take a walk on campus for the last time and say goodbye to my friends.
I love the old campus, where the flowers, grass and trees, teachers, classmates and everything here. I want to embrace castle peak and campus!
There is a voice that Hong, a middle-aged painter, misses more and more. This kind of sound is wonderful, with color, shape, temperature and emotional stories. But now I can't hear it anymore, or feel it accurately.
This sound is called rain. The rain came from the direction where he was born and grew up. Spring rain, summer rain, autumn rain and winter rain.
When it rains, his father always stands on the steps of the old house, listening to the rain in the yard and intoxicated by it. Then, he called him to his side and told him many ancient poems about rain: "Spring leeks are cut in the night rain", "Huang Meiyu", "Three nights of rain on buttonwood leaves" and "Leaving the lotus to listen to the rain" ... He didn't understand, but he understood the gorgeous colors of flowers and leaves stained with rain.
Then they went back to the hall and sat down. Dad said, "listen-". After repeated countless times, his ears became sensitive: raindrops were small and dense, falling on thin blue tiles, tinkling like pearls jumping around in a jade plate; Percussion on the glass tile designed for lighting, the sound is sharp and crisp, just like the high scale in the piano sound; Raindrops hitting the wooden drying floor have a delicate and smooth sound; But the rain on the eaves of the front hall is just the opposite, rich and simple; The rain on the granite steps is calm and full of strength. It is raining harder and harder. He heard the gurgling sound of running water, which came from the creaking of wood beside the high and low eaves. The underground waterways of the old house crisscross, and the rapid sound of water is like the roar of a golden drum.
There is a saying in the ancient city: "If it rains, stay for a day." He remembered that when it rained, guests would come unexpectedly at home, all of whom were close friends of his father. Is rain an invitation? In the sound of rain, they talk about heaven, humanity, medicine, art, or play chess, and the sound of falling balls and rain rings alternately; Or, pull up Jinghu and sing the famous Peking Opera that they are familiar with. The notes pass through the gap in the rain and are not wet ... He sits on one side, watching, listening and dreaming.
In the rain, he grew up, got married and became a father ... alleys, old houses and rain became the strangest background in his life. On rainy days, he also tells his son those ancient poems about rain. On rainy days, there are always friends in his studio.
Spring rain, summer rain, autumn rain and winter rain.
Suddenly one day, this large piece of land was allocated to a real estate agent, and he and his family moved into Century Garden. The alley is gone, the old house is gone, and the rain he remembers is gone!
Huge conventional cement boxes are embedded in nests made of concrete, glass and steel. The sound of rain is dark gray, and the rhythm is dull and depressing. This is not the sound of rain he has ever felt! Whenever it rains, he feels particularly bored. From the studio to the eaves of the terrace, from the eaves of the terrace to the studio, like a leopard caught in a trap, isolated.
He decided to ask some carpenters to make a roof and wooden frame on the terrace, covered with small blue tiles and embedded with glass tiles. He wants that voice back. He also set up a porcelain round table, four drum-shaped porcelain stools, a red mud stove burning charcoal, and a green pottery beam pot boiling water.
When it rains, he sits here and makes tea, while sitting quietly listening to the rain. The front of the terrace is open. When he looks up, he sees tall buildings, neatly arranged. All the windows are filled with shiny security window, and thick curtains hang behind the windows, fearing that someone will spy on their privacy; The exterior wall is covered with air conditioners, like ugly tumors ... this background will never produce classical rain!
He knows that in the days to come, he will always miss the sound of rain. It's a rainy day. He suddenly left the balcony and hurried into the silent studio. ...
He hopes to draw the long rain on rice paper. ...
I have been in middle school for more than half a year. It can be said that I have completely got rid of the name of a pupil, but I will never forget the joys and sorrows left by my primary school life.
During the holiday, I passed by the gate of my alma mater in high spirits, and I couldn't help feeling extremely cordial. At last I couldn't bear it any longer and went in.
Walking on the surging road, my heart is full of mixed feelings. Everything in front of me is so familiar, but it no longer belongs to me. Far away, I saw the old lock on the iron gate of the sixth grade classroom that I had touched many times. There was a defeated Chinese rose in front of the door, and I walked slowly to the flower bed. As usual, I looked down and smelled it. Although there was no fragrance, I tasted it carefully. I walked into the classroom, found my previous seat, sat on it with dignity, and stared straight at the blackboard, as if I had returned to the previous classroom. The teacher is talking seriously and the students are listening carefully, but now, it is impossible! I was in a daze in my seat for a long time before I reluctantly left. When I came to the classroom office, there was no one inside. I remember holding a lot of homework every day and panting on my desk. The teacher will give me an ambiguous smile, but now there are only dust on the wall and a few pieces of waste paper on the ground around me. The headmaster's office across the street is still full of books, but the number of visits is too small after all. When I went to the playground, I felt even more sad. I can't help jogging. As I ran, I shouted slogans of the past. I don't know how many laps I have run, but I never feel tired.
Finally, with attachment and reluctance, I walked out of the school gate. The moment I got on the bike, I cried, because I could never go back!
Missing composition 5 monopolizes the window, leaning against the railing, full of sadness and parting.
Listen carefully. From time to time, there was a shout of leaves colliding with branches and leaves in the originally silent forest garden, like a horde passing by, knocking on my sensitive and fragile heart.
The sky became gray, and several swallows circled back to their nests, leaving several visible traces on the dark swallows.
Under the birch forest, there are only dry streams covered with dead leaves, and occasionally the residual leaves fall off, and the traces of the years are mottled and carved into unknown rhythms.
The sky in the distance is overcast, the breeze is fading, and the trees are swaying. Withered branches and leaves hang tenaciously on the treetops, but they can't stand the tear of the wind. Debris is everywhere, buried in layers of black soil under the tree.
On the bank of the eaves, a colorful Okumo hangs on the swaying net, and several thin white filaments hang down, swaying slowly with the singing of birds.
With heavy steps, stepping on the rolling leaves, the wind around me roared and slapped my cheek, and I crossed lines of dry tears in the madness that only belongs to autumn.
This is a solemn and quiet place.
Those smiling Zodiac animals, the smell of kitchen smoke gradually permeating the air, the cold marble stone gate, two fierce lions, dark green pine trees buried in the mountains, and the stone tablets with vigorous and powerful black and white handwriting. ...
Autumn wind has taken away the lush summer, the colorful spring flowers and relatives. ...
Holding a bright chrysanthemum in my hand, I stared at the powerful black words on the stone tablet and impressed them deeply in my mind.
Another cold autumn, the day I lost you. Thick paper money was burned in the fire, and the rustling wind rolled up paper ash and danced in the gray-blue sky.
Autumn wind strikes, which is the most anticipated but most feared day every year. This is the place where I want to come every year but I don't want to come. ...
Miss topic composition 6 buried that helplessness in a sigh and was touched by a trace of coolness in her heart.
Most of the sadness is also the helplessness of passing away.
The weather has turned cold in recent days. When I woke up in tears unconsciously in the morning, I dreamed of my primary school and my alma mater. The joy of primary school made me nervous. Soon after I started, I fell asleep and memories began to hover in my mind. ...
Six years of primary school, time flies. I have lived in Class Two for six years, but it seems to be just a life. I feel that the second time passed quickly.
The last year of six years has become a year I have forgotten. After graduation, I hugged and complained, but a thousand words still couldn't help but make me feel lost.
Arrived an hour early, no, it should be the buttoned canteen. Many people are playing noisily, and the whole path leading there is messed up by these "bad students". "Excuse me ..." The motorcyclist shouted. With a heavy water gun more than one meter long, people shot at random. I often play "water wars" and get soaked. When I was idle, I bought firecrackers and put them at the entrance of the canteen, in the parking lot and on the sand road ... "beep, beep, beep". After setting off firecrackers, the rich people bought several boxes of playing cards and scattered them box by box. The road leading to the mouth was full of playing cards.
After playing crazy for a long time, I heard the bell ring. 10 people walked slowly with their schoolbags on their backs, playing while walking. At the door of the classroom, they are still talking and laughing. The teacher is waiting for these bad students to come to class. Many people crowded at the door and shouted in unison. The teacher made a reluctant gesture and said come in.
I closed my eyes, and one picture after another came to my mind:
After class, both good students and bad students fell asleep at their desks, and their sleeping positions were correct. Hehe, I just read comic books, draw pictures, and stare blankly when I can't sleep. I heard that the table is new, and I am interested. I picked up the key and turned the gong wire to split the table into several pieces. In music class or art class, there are always ten people caught by the teacher to write homework and recite the text, and they are caught by the teacher to write homework on the table in front of the stairs. Just kick the table. A few days later, the table broke a big hole, and a week later, the table was miserable, two pieces. Our classroom is on the top floor, and everyone has the strongest railing. Who knows, the railing on the fourth floor was actually broken, and the railing foot next to the wall was kicked by such a bad student, and the wall was cracked. A few small mud stones rolled down from the fourth floor, and someone happened to pass downstairs and hit his head. The consequences can be imagined. The teacher knew that these "bad students" did it without investigation. Well, it is very common to be called to the office by the teacher for education. There are two classes of stubborn students in each class who receive education in the office.
Hehe, it was a group of "bad students" who made the teacher have a headache, and it was also the day when all my "bad students" did not break up.
The last year, the end of childhood growth, did not stay too much, but took away an innocent and romantic childhood. When I graduated, I felt at a loss and at a loss. I haven't seen it for six years, but I don't know where to start.
The teacher told him to study hard and say goodbye to each other when he grew up. I cried, and so did the teacher.
"Get out of here, bury your memory and start a new journey in your heart." Hugging each other, what I said to you after graduation. "Bad students" will also give up in tears.
-don't give up, panic, at a loss, uncomfortable.
-I can't take it anymore. I left, in my mind, to go out. Two familiar roads confused me, and I didn't know which way to take. Looking back at the big banyan tree for six years, I left yesterday as soon as I entered school.
The pillow towel was wet with tears-
I will never go back to the life of that "bad student", and I will never listen to the primary school teacher nagging all day and be punished by the teacher.
I feel so helpless that I can go back and get a new face.
Goodbye, dear teacher, goodbye, dear students.
I miss the fragrance of osmanthus in the garden and enjoy it quietly, but I never thought that osmanthus would leave so early and become my blocked memory.
Childhood.
I want to pick osmanthus in the garden, but it's always late. I found that the sweet-scented osmanthus has been picked by my grandmother and placed neatly on the ground to accept the reward of the sun. At that time, I always wondered why I didn't come earlier! I ran to my grandmother like a spoiled brat and asked me why I picked all the osmanthus flowers! The next day, when I got up and smelled the fragrance of Osmanthus Jelly, I ignored the slack wrinkles in my grandmother's eyes.
Grow up.
Slowly growing, sweet-scented osmanthus has never left me, and they have grown with me all the way. No matter how stormy it is, thinking of osmanthus fragrance is full of strength, because I know that osmanthus fragrance is full of grandma's deep love.
I always thought that osmanthus trees would not leave, but one day, a huge machine razed the garden full of osmanthus trees, and I jumped on it, but my grandmother grabbed me tightly. No matter how angry I was, I suddenly turned into tears of regret and fell down. Suddenly, I saw grandma's eyes red, as if she had cried. At that time, I didn't understand, and I didn't know what kind of inner entanglement my grandmother had experienced before agreeing.
Now, turn back to my thoughts, and turn my inner pain into homesickness and white clouds as before, hoping that they can take my thoughts away.
Looking at my hometown through the window, I know that it is the root and home of osmanthus in the garden, and it is also the place where osmanthus gathers, with grandma's love and warmth.
The thought of my grandmother in my hometown makes my eyes moist. The sweet-scented osmanthus fragrance of childhood has disappeared, and the warmth of childhood seems to have disappeared. I don't know if I can still hear Ran Ran's rose memory, and I don't know if my grandmother is well.
Turning around, my mother stood behind the door and said with a flower-like smile, "Look, what did grandma give you?" Osmanthus fragrans is floating out of my mother's bag. I quickly greeted Xiangxiang and smiled happily. I know it's the smell of Osmanthus Jelly, which is my most familiar smell.
After receiving the parcel, I looked at Osmanthus Jelly in the square, and my heart was full of warmth, but I still missed the sweet-scented osmanthus in the garden.
I'm going to play badminton with them in primary school this afternoon, and I'll choose a stage in front of that big square. Really, standing on that stage, there is a feeling of that year.
There used to be many wonderful memories left for us. That is our students' world. Many students will gather there after class. Of course, we were there. The most popular games are "San Zi Jing" and "One-legged Jump", which are also our favorite games. Standing on that stage now, it is impossible for us to play these games, and everything can only be nostalgia. Badminton shuttles back and forth between us, and I seem to feel the taste of childhood.
By the way, I miss my primary school days very much. Although I am lonely, my primary school life is very substantial and unforgettable. The three of us, good friends from primary school to now, all say that time will dilute friendship, but it is not true for us. We have had problems, but we are still good friends. We miss everything here.
Touching the shabby low wall, Z said, "I remember we couldn't even jump!" " "Now? This is too short for us, but too high for us as children.
In a corridor next to it, some children are playing "touching goldfish". I found the feeling of that year from their gameplay, as if I had suddenly returned to my childhood. I looked at them and almost forgot to catch the ball. Then suddenly there was a lightning reaction. The ball finally caught it, but it didn't seem to be pressed down. The powerful sound of the racket hitting badminton is the passion of our youth. The laughter of the children next to them, that's when they are having fun. At this moment, it seems that time and space are intertwined, and childhood and youth meet.
I miss that year. In childhood, unlike those children, we were carefree and enjoyed the happy time of childhood. Yes, the lost childhood is beautiful, just like a meteor, just a moment of beauty, but it can leave an eternal mark.
The racket is waving in our hands, and the badminton shuttles back and forth between us. Really, I really feel that I have grown up at this moment, and I know that my childhood has become an eternal mark.
We all miss our primary school days and the beauty of that year, but people always grow up, and people always grow up.
Since childhood has passed away, all that remains is nostalgia, so let it end naturally and let the imprint of childhood be stored in the depths of my mind forever.
Childhood has passed, leaving only nostalgia; And youth is among them, it is a time to enjoy!