Writing on the topic of missing 1 simple tea and coarse rice emerges one after another. Only missing is like water, bitter.
-Star love
The smoke from home rises like a mother's hand waving, telling us to go home. A table of dishes, though not delicious, has its own flavor. Laughing and laughing, it is sunrise, sunset and rest, accompanied by my mother. Although the days are not beautiful, they are also sweet. Because there is family around, those tiredness and troubles disappear instantly.
The noise of cars in the street is endless, invading our ears like needles and stinging us. A table of delicacies can be described as delicacies, but it is not as delicious as my mother's. Why? Sitting in the office, typing and correcting documents is very relaxing, but there is no fun in farm work. Why? Everything is because I am far away from my hometown, have no relatives, have no reason, and have no family to accompany me. Everything is bitter.
Wanderers in other places, in sunny days, miss their mother's smile, as bright as sunshine; Think of mother's wrinkles on cloudy days; Wrinkles touched by years; On snowy days, I miss my mother's hands covered with cocoons and those dexterous hands that weave warm cotton-padded jackets. ...
Success, sitting in the car, driving into the path of my hometown, tears soaked my skirt, and my hometown remained the same. However, the small tree became a big tree, the grass grew so high, the muddy path became a spacious cement road ... I couldn't wait to enter the house, and my old mother was greeted in front. She is still so kind, but the years have left a deep mark on her face and hair mercilessly. After meeting, I reluctantly returned to the big city.
Mother in the distance! Do you know that?/You know what? I still miss, miss. ...
Without supporting roles, the protagonist can't show its beauty.
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Walking alone in the Woods in autumn, stepping on thick leaves, my heart is particularly heavy. I looked up at the dim sunshine and the leaves on the tree and felt that I was no different from those leaves.
My study is not the best at work, and the teacher is only around top students. After entering the ninth grade, I was gradually left behind by the fast pace.
When I got home at night, I stood alone on the balcony, looking at the buttonwood tree in the yard, with the last few leaves on it, yellow and lifeless. Maybe there will be a strong wind in the near future, and they will leave the trunk and eventually turn into soil. "What are you thinking?" Father asked. "Dad, do you think the trunk or the leaves are more important?" "Boxes, of course," my father replied. I said nothing, and my father stopped asking questions.
The next day, I walked alone in this lifeless forest, closed my eyes and felt the sound of fallen leaves. In order to survive the cold winter, the selfish uncle turned pieces of fallen leaves into soil.
If the leaves are the supporting role of the trunk, then I am not the supporting role of life. Am I going to be eliminated by life?
Suddenly a word came from behind, "Do you think it looks good in the Woods now or in summer?" "Of course the Woods are beautiful in summer," I replied. What do you think the forest lacks now? I won't say anything. My father said to me, "If you think the Woods are beautiful in summer, then you have green leaves. Now they have been eliminated. What is the reason? Do you know? " I shook my head. Father said, "Why don't you go and see the difference between these fallen leaves and those of pine trees?" I picked up a fallen leaf and walked to the pine tree. In a flash, I understood that if you don't want to be eliminated by life, you must learn to give up. I looked at my father and he nodded to me.
Looking back on this memory now, I really want to thank the fallen leaves in autumn for letting me understand such a great philosophy of life.
Writing a composition on the theme of missing 3 nights is already very deep. Yuko sat alone in front of the computer, turned on qq and waited for the icon to light up.
The night is very quiet, only the whirring sound of the air conditioner makes me realize my existence. The air conditioner is turned on too low, so I feel a little cold, just like missing you, faint and obvious. I want to turn it off, but I feel a little reluctant.
I've only talked to you a few times. Maybe I don't know you, but I miss you very much. Faint, like the fog haze in the distant mountains in the morning, like the twilight connecting the water and the sky; Quietly, like a clear spring flowing through a rock, it also alarms Shan Ye like a bird song; Gently, like the moonlight flowing in the Mid-Autumn Festival, like the ripples in the West Lake.
I wonder if this rash idea is blasphemy to you? I don't think so, but I'm afraid your fragile shoulders can't bear such a heavy burden: you are often sad, because you are sensitive to your father's love that is not full since childhood, and because you are sensitive to your husband's incomprehension, so you often drink alone, so that your shoulders are as fragile as the lotus leaf in this field, and it is difficult for a frivolous bird to stand on the lotus leaf. I can only turn my thoughts into a leisurely dragonfly, standing on the sharp corner exposed early, and embellishing your green dream with wishful thinking.
You are firmly in love with the lotus. If the Duke of Zhou in the Northern Song Dynasty had been born a thousand years later, he would not have lamented "Who gave the lotus love?" Yes And I just walked around Zhu Ziqing's lotus pond through the dim night, and I dare not expect to cross the barrier of Qian Shan and be fragrant with you. People who know each other silently are also a kind of tacit understanding, but you and I are thousands of miles apart, so what can we say silently?
Fortunately, I also know and admire the nobility of Duke Zhou, and miss you, just like this lotus flower, which is fragrant and clear and graceful.
Writing 4 on the topic of missing is another year in Tomb-Sweeping Day.
Winter goes and spring comes, and it is another year of Qingming. It's raining lightly in the sky, and everything is covered with faint sadness. Looking at the continuous drizzle, I remembered this poem:
"There are many rains during the Qingming period, and pedestrians on the road want to break their souls."
Today, I went to the countryside with my parents to visit grandma's grave. I stood in front of my grandmother's grave, filled with infinite sadness. Grandma, you used to live close to us and enjoy your family. But now we are separated by Yin and Yang, and you are alone under the loess.
Grandma, my parents and I saw you coming. Dad took out a lighter to light yellow paper and put a pot of flowers in front of the grave to express the grief of the younger generation. But a knife of paper and a pot of flowers, how can we express our great yearning and deep nostalgia for you? Grandma, at this moment, I have a lot to say to you! I thought that when I grew up and had the ability, I would take you around the great rivers and mountains of the motherland by plane, and even around the world. I also want you to live in the best villa and receive the highest level of recuperation ... but I haven't grown up yet, why did you leave quietly? Don't you want all this from your great-granddaughter? It shouldn't be like this! Grandma, you must be desperate.
Closing my eyes, I recall my grandmother's kindness to me: when I was sick, you patiently accompanied me, grinding crude drugs into powder and mixing honey for me to eat; When I won the prize, you held me in your arms, and your wrinkled face smiled into a mulberry; When I met a problem in my homework, you gave me the confidence and courage to overcome it, even though you couldn't answer it for me. ...
But now I'll never see you again, grandma! Thought of here, my eyes moist. My parents and I knelt in front of your grave for a long time, let the fire shine, let the yellow flowers shine, let the light rain fly ... The light rain soaked the earth and my hair. Grandma, this rain is the tears I miss!
Oh, another Tomb-Sweeping Day. Grandma, your great-granddaughter wishes you all the best in the other world.
When I was five hours old, there was a clear stream in my grandmother's house.
In spring, willows and jujube trees sprout by the stream, and the green is reflected in the crystal clear stream, like shaking hands with pebbles at the bottom of the water.
In summer, my cousin, my cousin and other friends gather in the stream, touching snails, catching small fish, catching shrimps, having a water fight, making faces at the stream and shouting. The stream brought us endless fun, and we were very happy.
In autumn, when the dates are ripe, we beat them with a bamboo pole. Jujube fell into the river one by one. Some of us use big net bags to pick them up at the water outlet, and some use small net bags to fish one by one, and then laugh while eating. We are very happy.
In winter, water freezes, but usually there is only a thin layer. We threw stones into the stream, only to see the thin ice creaking and falling apart, watching the stones slowly sink to the bottom. In a short time, chunks were "bombed" by us. We ignore the cold wind and seem to be expanding our territory.
I don't know when the stream became dark and smelly. Adults have repeatedly reminded us not to play in the stream, not to play in the stream, and not to pick dates to eat. There are more and more sick people in the village. We can only look at the stream from a distance in fear and recall the good old days in our hearts.
Stream, the stream I miss, when can you go back to the way you used to be, and when can we regain our former joy?
It is everyone's responsibility to treat the five waters. We will take immediate action to protect water resources and let the stream I miss come back to us one day earlier.
There is a kind of memory that cannot be formatted: there is a kind of love that cannot disappear in the world; Then there is a kind of miss that will never be erased.
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Hey! Look at the fields over there, what an endless desert! Having said that, I seem to have returned to the wonderful childhood full of laughter and laughter eight years ago. That silly, naive, mirth childhood. We were carefree at that time. Boys, children and children also play together. Big brother, big sister, little brother and little sister all play together. We do many interesting things together.
I remember once, we flew kites together, in pairs, my sister and I, and we compared whose kite was the most beautiful and which group flew the highest. At that time, my sister and I had the most beautiful kites, and we flew the highest. However, when our friends put a trace of jealousy in their envious eyes, suddenly, our kite line broke. That beautiful butterfly kite flew away in despair, just like when we grew up, we flew away with our own ideals. At this time, we looked up at the beautiful dream route presented by the perfect combination of sky, sky and kite. We shouted, "Let your dreams fly, and you and I will walk together."
Memories, memories, I recalled from the west to the east of the village.
In the east of our village, there are several big slopes. When we were young, we regarded it as the pinnacle of our dreams. Opposite the peak of our dream is a small slope, and its south and north are also small slopes. There are many trees under the peak of the dream. We regard this place as our adventure camp. We were naive when we were children.
Although this is only a trace of childhood, it is very clear in my memory, but when we grow up and have our own ideals and goals, we can no longer be so carefree as when we were children ... We are like kites, and when the thread is pulled, we will fly away. Although there are many moments worthy of our nostalgia, they can only be our cherished memories. ...
Every moment of my childhood, like a memory card, has a memory space that I miss and can never be erased.
Time goes by quietly, even if I can feel her pace, I can't help it. I always miss you this season ... no matter how repulsive I am, once the floodgate of memory opens, I feel helpless. I wandered alone in the valley of the shadow moon, eager to find your trace, but you disappeared without a trace, leaving me with a sigh.
I can't forget, and I can't forget each other's bits and pieces. Although it's pitiful, it's unforgettable. I still jump around in front of T's melting pot. For the original joke, Azeroth started all kinds of festivals. Looking at the petals scattered all over the floor, I not only remembered the task we did together on Valentine's Day. Under the sun umbrella, you spread rose petals all over my body and let me bathe in the sea of flowers. You lit a beam of light.
Riding a bear, I ran in Nageland, beside a small lake, sobbing, pig, do you know I miss you? Do you know that the night is a kind of torture for me? You know, I traveled all over Azeroth just to look forward to seeing you again?
Every time I think of you, I feel a twinge of heartache. It really hurts ... looking at my soul, I want to laugh, pig ... if there is an afterlife, are you still willing to look forward to meeting, knowing and loving me in reincarnation? ...
My world is only black and white, because of you, only for you, only for you. ...
I miss you, but I frown, but I feel it ... even if I can't write gorgeous words, I can't express our story in words. As long as it involves you, my heart can't be calm, and I can't knock down those flowing sentences calmly. ...
At night ... do you still sleep so late? Will you still wander in Azeroth? I don't want to leave for long, just to wait for you ... You know what, pig? ...
I can cook ginger candy and crucian carp soup well, but why are they all bitter?
Writing on the topic of missing 8 nights, I don't know why, I can't sleep for a long time, my mind is in chaos and I think a lot. Suddenly, a tall and burly figure flashed through my mind-head as snow, wearing a taupe coat, one hand leaning on a cane, and the other hand holding high to greet me. Ah, that's grandpa! The scene with grandpa reappeared before my eyes-
"Come on, Grandpa, play with your hand!" "Old K of hearts, eight spades ..." Grandpa and I gathered in front of the computer. A rough big hand holds a delicate little hand and lights the mouse. Laughter came from time to time in the study. I was six years old that year.
"Look, there are so many pears in a * * *, if ... then ..." At the desk, grandpa with glasses is smiling and patiently explaining the topic to me. "Oh, I see!" I cheered, "Grandpa is so smart!" I was eight years old that year.
"Second brother, I'm coming ..." In the ward, grandpa four held grandpa's hand and choked. Grandpa, who has always been strong, shed tears, and a silent tear rolled down the corner of his eye. "Grandpa ..." I witnessed the true feelings of the world, was moved, and cried into tears.
You may delay, but time will not. Grandpa left quietly. In the morgue, grandpa lay quietly, so serene. "Grandpa ..." Tears welled up in my eyes again and again, and I couldn't say a word. That was the last time I saw my grandfather. I was nine years old.
It's late at night and it's quiet all around. Thinking about it, I fell asleep in a daze. In the dark, a man came up to me, and his figure was so familiar. "Grandpa!" I almost cried. When I opened my eyes, it was just a dream. I just looked at the darkness, tears soaked the pillow towel for a long time. My heartfelt call: "Grandpa, where are you today?" Are you okay? "
Missing is as light as a feather and as heavy as Mount Tai!
Since I met you, my heart no longer belongs to me! Missing is like a clear spring, flowing quietly in the deepest part of my heart. ...
A few years of ups and downs, a warm hug, a kind word, a loving look and a beautiful memory can't stop it!
Whenever the dead of night, the faint thoughts in my heart naturally occupy the peace of the whole heart! Miss, the taste of love!
Every time I say sorry to you with apologies, you will feel distressed: fool, as long as you are happy, it's no big deal. Don't say sorry again, I will feel distressed! I am moved by your love every time ... I will continue to make the same mistake and be moved by more love!
Every time I feel sad, I will comfort myself: Girl, don't think too much, even if I am naive, won't I still be here? I will feel even more distressed if you are sad! The warmth you gave invaded my inner coldness!
Whenever I feel lonely and helpless, your warmth illuminates every corner of my dark heart. The world with you is so beautiful!
Every time I feel tired, your tenderness occupies my heart! Your smile is better than any medicine! Fall in love with heaven with you!
I don't need too many flowery words to describe how much I miss you. Is the most beautiful song in my heart!
The falling sky is singing loudly tonight, and my heart is surging tonight. I fell in love with you without hesitation, your tenderness, your hegemony, your persistence, your love and the taste of love!
When two people can play and laugh together, they don't think this friendship is valuable.
However, when two people are isolated for various reasons, there is such a yearning. I have had such an experience. MengMeng, the daughter of my mother's friend Uncle Li, is one year younger than me and is my good friend. I used to write to each other and send small things because I didn't have time. Mom and Uncle Li are our "postmen". On weekends, I often go to her house to play, and her family likes me very much. Uncle Li is very funny, and MengMeng has inherited many advantages from him. Her grandparents are excellent cooks, so eating at her house has a unique flavor! Her mother is a clever and quiet woman. She is a good mother. MengMeng is witty, smart, funny and lovely, with excellent grades and conscious order. Who doesn't like it? It was that trip to Shaoxing that cut me off from her. On that day, MengMeng, his mother, grandparents and Uncle Li went to Shaoxing to play together. I, MengMeng and Uncle Li have a car, and my mother and grandparents have a car. On the way, MengMeng and I painted and played cards ... How happy we were! Mom's car is in the front and we are in the back. An hour later, we arrived in Shaoxing. Our hotel is an ancient water town. Now, we can go boating Uncle Li said that they would leave this afternoon. What a pity! Haha, here is the key! "Wow, it's so big!" "Villa, is also two layers! What a big bed! " How interesting! MengMeng and I are having a pillow fight on the second floor, and my mother and Uncle Li are quarreling below! They quarreled more and more fiercely, and we all froze!
Later, Uncle Li dragged MengMeng away angrily … From then on, we can only chat online instead of laughing happily … However, we can play together again next week, so I look forward to it!
Missing is rain, sometimes drizzling, sometimes pouring down, but it always moistens everyone's heart. Missing is sweet, like honey and sugar. The figure in Nostalgia and the past in Nostalgia are familiar and happy. Missing is bitter, like medicine and tea. The expectation and blessing in missing is long and endless.
"Ah, I don't know that boarding at school these days always feels strange, and my heart is cold." I reached out and hugged my roommate. "Maybe away from home for too long? Homesick? " As small as solemnly said. "homesick?" I muttered to myself, but I have been away from home for several days. Maybe … "Hey, you are a letter from home." My roommate's crying interrupted my thoughts. I took the letter, carefully opened it and read it.
"Daughter, have a good time at school? My parents miss you very much ... "In the middle of writing, I felt my eyes moist and shocked. In retrospect, when I was at home, I always felt bored: I listened to my parents' constant nagging every day; You must be reprimanded when you fail the exam. How nice it is to board at school. I can play and chat with my friends every day, instead of listening to cocoon nagging every day. But now, don't I think my parents care so much about me? These nagging seems inseparable.
I wiped the tears from the corner of my eyes with my hand and continued to look down. "Daughter, have you been nervous about your studies recently?" In fact, my parents love you very much ... "In fact, my parents really love me. Although my parents are busy with work, we seldom settle down to play, but my parents have always cared about me, always cared about me. Although my parents have never expressed their love and concern for me in words, I can still feel my deep affection.
I began to blame myself. Why? Why? Why didn't I realize my parents' love for me earlier? Why, I used to be so stubborn? I lay on my desk and wept bitterly, clutching the letter tightly. I spread out a piece of paper and wrote: Mom and Dad, in fact, my daughter loves you very much. ...
Missing is the topic of the composition 12. I don't know how I feel, but I'm getting deeper. Broken walls, surprised and yearning, ancient academy, thinking forever. The piano is bitter and the fingers are fleeting. I will wait for you under the time tree. Take a walk, look at the sea of clouds and mountains, and smile. It's refreshing.
Escape from love, stranded on the beach of time, messy, pick up a distant miss, and Chun Qing infinite, chew a piece of eternal love. Touch the strings of acacia and watch you breathe andante and joys and sorrows while walking silently. Since ancient times, glass is fragile. Who's lost? Who's lost?
After I left, I walked in the lonely depths of Chun Qing. When I first met pale Mark and Melancholy, I was stunned by the pear tree. Embarrassed, I found my way home from the thick beauty. Colorful, ethereal and depraved, every eagle is holding a leaf to the west. Sakyamuni, release all the heavy shackles, open the wax seal, light a leaf and get drunk. Muny, the quiet Buddha sound is lost in the noisy age. Can you still hold a cassock like hemp to accumulate years and unveil your mysterious veil when I am in my prime?
The breeze danced, the water was sparkling, and the dragging cockroach completed the love exchange with the water with the help of the wind. The sky has photographed the brevity of their love, and the love that lasts for a period of time will repeat itself. Maybe there's an appointment under the moon, and we'll meet again after first frost in one thousand.
Drunk with tears, stay drunk with each other and find that person in confusion. Heaven practice, small ah seems to be disabled, is the missing person in the world of mortals. Whose dream are those smiling eyes? Also in an instant, turned and burst.
I still believe that Yue Lao and Meng Po used to be lovers. After the funeral at the other end of the red rope, Mo Yan woke up with a bowl and forgot the funeral.
Writing on the topic of missing 13 Don't let tears wet the road of memory, an ordinary and ordinary road in the eyes of others, but it makes me cry again and again. Maybe because of you. Today, when I was walking on this road, I shed tears again-inscription.
Road, there are thousands of roads in Qian Qian in the world. Only this ordinary road makes me unforgettable, because there is a mark on the road that I am with you. That feeling is like being blown by the warm spring breeze, bringing your love to every piece of land in my heart and letting the dandelion of love sprout in my heart.
Along the way, with the light green in spring, the vitality in summer, the fiery red in autumn and the snowflake in winter, I recorded the joys and sorrows with you during your time with me; In the years after you left me, you spent unforgettable days with me. Touching the branch, I heard the song it sang, but I never understood what it was singing.
Whenever I stand on the balcony at home and look at the road, I always want to cry, and I want to vent my melancholy, but I have never done so, because you once said to me in the wind, "Don't cry, don't let your tears wet your memories." I nodded ruthlessly. Since then, I have never cried with you for that road, because I don't want my tears to wet the best memories.
Now I still walk that road every day, touch the trunk and listen to that song every day. I didn't understand that song before, but now for so many years, I understand it for the first time:
I witnessed a lot,/I forgot a lot of things,/but the scene between her and the old man,/I never forgot .../One day, the girl touched me,/told me gently,/a tear was about to fall. /The wind sent the old man's words from the sky:/"Don't cry,/Don't let the tears wet the memory ..."
Yes! Grandpa, I told myself never to cry! Don't let the tears of missing wet all your memories. Perhaps because of you, the mood of leaving is gone, leaving only the bitterness you sow in your heart. After sprouting in your heart, it feels like bitter coffee, bitter first and then sweet. But I like bitterness, because bitterness can make me not forget your words and you in my memory!
Composition on that topic of disappearance 14 I have read some article by Jing M.Guo, and I am always move by his parting narrative, and I think his writing is tragic.
It seems that life is always in the past in constant parting, people gather and disperse, and feelings are sometimes strong and sometimes weak. Former classmates can meet again without saying hello. I didn't expect this to end. We really became strangers who just passed by.
I remember the last class reunion, I saw him sitting in front of me, but I didn't have the courage to talk to him. I just looked at him with tears in my eyes. I can't tell you what it feels like. I think it's helpless. Everything is so familiar and strange.
The following is a famous saying: Memory is like water in your hand. Whether you open it or hold it tightly, water will always flow through your fingers, bit by bit.
But I will still remember your every move in junior high school. I don't know what I want all the time. I hope my long-lost friends will meet again and say hello to me loudly. I know it doesn't mean anything, but I still think so.
The following is the quotation: Buddha said; Looking back 500 times in my last life, just to get this life passed by.
So before we met in this life, how many times did we look back in our last life? How can I let you go? .......
The following is the quote: all the endings have been written, all the tears have begun, but I suddenly forgot how to start ... I read and read with tears, but I have to admit that Youth is a book that is too hasty.
How hasty is youth? It is too late for us to think and cherish, and it flies away with wings full of gorgeous colors, leaving only a kind of fantasy and sadness faintly visible in the depths of our hearts. Most of us are walking with our heads buried. After passing through season after season, we saw large leaves falling silently. Can our thoughts be so silent?
Writing on the topic of missing 15 The green grass can't forget the moisture of rain and dew, the blooming flowers can't forget the sunshine, the flying birds can't forget the support of the trees, and I can't forget and erase the deep and warm missing.
Snow is her symbol. She is an angel and an ocean. She gives a lot to others and leaves very little for herself. I remember he said, "As long as you make efforts that others can't get, you will get achievements that others can't get." Shine in my memory forever.
She is the head teacher of my primary school. She is really like our mother, gentle and kind, especially those smiles, which always appear when we encounter difficulties or make small mistakes. Until we were in the sixth grade, each of our classmates became sensible, knowing that there would be fewer and fewer parties at this time, and we would tell jokes together from time to time. We never thought about what it would be like to graduate, but just wanted to cherish it. Also, you don't know how to cherish until you lose it, and you don't know how to regret until you lose it.
Before graduation, the school also held a singing contest, and everyone practiced very hard. Finally, we went on stage and sang the last song of primary school together. The teacher later told us that she was very happy to see us singing together on the stage. She saw that we had all grown up ... As she talked, some students below began to cry.
It's graduation time, so we write our thoughts about our teachers in the commemorative book and choose our own photos to fill in, hoping to leave a good memory for our teachers. Our class was the last to leave school that afternoon. At first, everyone cried as if tears were coming out. Finally the teacher said, "Let's go." We still refuse to go. We finally wrote our names on the blackboard and wrote our words to the teacher. Two big blackboards are full of dense words. ...
Tears can be erased, but thoughts can never be erased. We are really predestined friends with the teacher. The class number when we graduated was the teacher's birthday. Those two numbers are lucky numbers of love, and we will never forget them!