Missing the topic composition 1 used to it, watching the fallen leaves leave sadness in the autumn sound; Accustomed to it, looking for comfort in dreams; Accustomed to watching the pure world after the rain; Sunflowers that are used to it and quietly open and wither season after season.
Walking alone in the street, there seems to be a hurried crowd in the camera. When I was a child, the scene of clamoring for sugar reappeared, and the maple leaf dyed this scene red.
Looking at the wheat field, obsessed with intoxication. Chasing the direction of dandelion, it runs far away. The sunny sky is smiling, and the amber dusk is like sugar in a beautiful place.
A pot of sorrow falls, how can I hide my inner sadness? The years are sad and intoxicated. The past is like smoke, but I never found it. After seeing through the ending, it is already a wasteland. Looking at broken walls ahead, is it sad or nostalgic?
There was once a bosom friend, and we were inseparable. We are happy together and sad together. I am used to eating the same gum, reading the same comics, listening to the same music and asking the same questions. Everything is used to it, so natural, until the day I graduated from primary school, I found that the pain of parting had erased all the habits and everything was over. When habits have been subverted, when memories still exist, my friend, do you still have that kind smile?
Accustomed to listening to flowers and singing nightmares at night, singing prosperity and singing all the memories; Used to touch the yellow memory with pious eyes; Accustomed to finding the destination of the soul in the dark.
Looking up at the sky, I wonder whose thoughts those birds flying south in a hurry took away. As the sun sets, I wonder if my thoughts have found a distant home. In the yellowed photos, what comes out is melancholy? Is it gone? Is it hesitation? Autumn poetry is drowned in the middle of the night, and fireflies dance in the middle of the night, like greetings from afar, reaching my heart.
Lonely western Western jackdaw, facing the dim sunset, is flying in the sky. The melancholy in my mind was taken far away. I always chase the cliff with broken thoughts, but I forget the years we should have in life. If the memory is as strong as steel, should I laugh or cry?
In the broken memories, even breathing became very difficult, but I gradually got used to missing. Missing is elongated with the shadow, and the remaining shadow is scattered in the air by the east wind.
Missing the topic composition 2 Pack your bags and embark on another journey. Wandering life is chasing the beam of light in the distance, which represents hope and is dotted with the light of success. A person in a foreign land, without a close person to accompany him, feels trapped in a lonely cage, struggling, but more and more bound, invisibly, with an extra shackle-missing.
In the past, confiding with family members and intimacy with lovers have now become a kind of memory, a luxury of longing, so far away, obviously close at hand, but out of reach. A faint sadness hovers in my chest, lingering and brewing for a long time. At this time, I realized the helplessness of Li Taibai's "Until, raise my cup, I asked the bright moon to bring me my shadow and let the three of us". Maybe I should find a greenhouse, have a drink and enjoy the bright moon.
When I was dumbfounded, I suddenly remembered the difference today. I sighed helplessly, and the smog in my heart became thicker. It happened on August 15, but I was a little disappointed and sad when I was outside alone. I wanted to sing poetry like the ancients, but I had no literary talent. I fantasize about the laughter of my family in my mind, but my heart is bitter, faint and unforgettable. I picked up my coat and walked out of the dormitory. The cold wind poured in from the neckline, and my heart contracted violently in an instant, as if I had been stabbed severely.
The breath of autumn is more and more restless, and it is more and more difficult to hide. The street is not as crowded as usual, but a little more deserted in silence. As soon as my hand slipped, I took out my mobile phone from my pocket, my fingers slid back and forth on the screen, my eyes wandered on the long contact list, and I felt a lot in my heart. Gently, after the busy tone of "DuDu", the long-lost voice finally came out, just like a mountain flower, infiltrating my heart. It's been two months since I left home, but I haven't contacted my family once. This is not only to miss less, but also to be cared more, which may give me a different kind of satisfaction. Maybe I'm selfish, and I feel guilty. Mother's slightly old voice came from the other end of the phone. Years not only took away her beautiful face, but also made her vocal cords rough. I choked and sighed, and then there was an abyss of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a greeting, which poured out like a river, flapping my already fragile heart and tears fell disappointingly. During the nearly one-hour conversation, I was almost overwhelmed by my mother's concern. I only paid a dozen "alas" and "good". At the other end of the phone, my mother choked back her sobs, but I could deeply feel that tears were swirling in her eyes and shed a few drops from time to time. After the phone call, I cried like rain. I regret my silence when I speak and my simplicity to my mother. Actually, I really want to say it out loud. But I held back my words and my heart fell silent again.
Missing is like a kind of pain, deeply rooted in the bottom of my heart, like thorns, entangled and bound, crushing missing, but accumulating more and more.
Missing the topic composition 3 Winter came gently, blowing away the footprints of autumn. In the process of unpacking and closing boxes again and again, what accompanies me these days is not my mother's warm embrace, but my yearning mood.
Recently, because I have participated in many off-campus teaching activities, my mother is not at home and often has to live outside. Every time I stop at home, the next batch of luggage comes again! The busy suitcase never seems to stop.
Whenever I live outside, the telephone becomes the only window of comfort, but when I touch the telephone, my thoughts are as uncontrollable as a volcanic eruption. On a snowy night, I can't sleep staring at the starry sky, and my heart keeps coming with thoughts like high-pitched songs and loss like falling into a deep valley.
After many journeys, I deeply feel like a flying kite, which is an endless thread tied at home. No matter how high and far I fly, no matter how big the storm is, my parents' love will always be there; Just like an oasis in the desert, let me grow up smoothly, and like a wise old man from Antarctica, shine the brightest light around me.
I also played with my arms and legs cheekily, feeling as relaxed and comfortable as a rising hydrogen balloon. The cigarette rod is full of your persistent pursuit of beauty. I can't forget the smell of missing in the wind, the way the wild geese in the north flapped their wings, the footsteps of the stream rushing to the sea, and the tobacco rod that my grandfather condensed with love, which made me pursue a beautiful tobacco rod, which taught me to study hard, and which broke my head. I am so eager to see you again and feel the numbness and pain of that cigarette rod hitting my head again.
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 warm thoughts.
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!
Missing topic composition 6 bamboo tip wind, silver light tilt, moon shadow moving wall. In this hazy night, I suddenly found that there is still a dark wound in my heart, which flows very lightly and finely. Occasionally heard, like dripping water wears away the stone, tinkling. So, with my missing, it hurts into the bone marrow, reminding me of you in my dream.
"Sister, how are you?" I asked softly, "Will you think of that naughty me?" I know all the questions and blessings are in vain for you, and you will never hear my call to you again.
I still remember that autumn, when fruits and vegetables were fragrant, you were lying in a hospital bed like a fluttering branch, and your face was pale. I hold your hand tightly, try to hold back my sadness and say to you, "Sister, it will always be the most beautiful in the world." You and I will both smile. But I didn't expect the autumn wind to be so ruthless that it blew you away forever on that dark night.
Some people say that girls are like flowers, with flower-like youth and flower-like years. In my heart, you are like the rising sun, stepping out of the horizon gently, standing slim on the clear sea, stained with fog and rippling with soft waves; Another example is the lily that just bloomed, slowly raising the smile at the corner of her mouth, cleverly holding her chin, with childishness and charm. Yes, you are a beautiful flower, but it withered prematurely. When I reached out to save, I was left with endless sadness and endless thoughts.
The wind that once chased time looked for your shadow in every corner of the house. But apart from your only photo, all that's left is the footprints that left in a hurry. I used to lie on the lawn in front of my house, sobbing and cursing: "My sister is a liar. I promised to spend my birthday with me. How could I miss? " I have also thought of your lotus-like smile in countless cold nights' dreams, always so pure and unforgettable.
Time passed, and with a wave of my sleeve, I realized that time had slipped away. Now that I have grown up, I will never cry for my sister in front of my parents like I did when I was a child. This will only increase the pain and be useless. The living should also live well. I learned to bury my thoughts in my heart and move on with your hope.
Every time I think of you, I will go to see that yellowed photo. Your eyes, like a sunny May day, instantly light up my dark beauty. Dear sister, do you know that in the depths of my eyes, I dream that you are a flower, which is my desire for love.
It's autumn again, and the leaves of the phoenix tree outside the window have turned golden yellow, and there is a fluttering flute in my ear. When I turned around, the leaves of Indus had fallen to the ground. ...
I really want to walk under the phoenix tree, step on the fallen leaves all over the ground, accompany the ancient phoenix tree and listen to beautiful stories. A cool breeze brought me back to that distant time. ...
When I was a child, I was very naughty. When I see a novel thing, I always go up and have a look. Every spring, whenever I see a kite swinging in the sky, I will urge my father to buy me one. Holding my beloved kite, I never wanted to fly it, forcing my father to buy it for me. I ran home excitedly and flew a kite as soon as I got home. I didn't quiet down until I watched my father put the kite in the sky. Take dad's kite string, and the dancing kite runs with me. However, in a short time, the kite string was broken, and I stood in the same place stupidly.
These childhood days also fly farther and farther with kites. ...
I took part in a painting class before grade one. I am happy every time I paint, not only because I like painting, but also because I can ask my mother to buy me popcorn after painting. The sound of "scratching" is my favorite. The popcorn is about to come out. When the lid was opened, the smell went straight to my nose, which was very enjoyable. A satisfied bag of popcorn, taste it slowly. However, after a while, the fragrance disappeared and I didn't want to eat any more.
This childhood drifted away with the smell of popcorn. ...
Until I go to primary school, there will be several colorful windmills at home. Whenever I am free, I like to hold it and let the naughty wind play with it. I am willing to share with the wind, and the colorful windmill has become the deepest memory in my mind. However, after a while, the wind stopped and the windmill stopped running, and I lost interest in playing with it.
These childhood days are also blowing in the wind. ...
A breeze blew away and brought me back to reality. Look behind me, there is a layer of fallen leaves and a yellow leaf spinning in mid-air. I reached for it and put it in my palm. I hope these fallen leaves can store my memories forever, and the wind will go far if it doesn't go right away. ...
The buttonwood leaves are fluttering and buzzing. ...
There are so many roads that I forgot. During that time, you will only stay for a long time, but after a short stay, you will find that the memory has been with you for a long time.
Because when you want to forget or have forgotten, the person who gave you the memory is by your side. Whether you hold hands or not, he will stay or not. Because when you cross the memory and think of it again, that person has inadvertently become your passer-by. Whether you answer it or not, he won't stay for you.
This is an imperfect process, just like the curved moon kowtowing to its ups and downs.
I am like a cocoon bound, bound and wrapped by the thread of fate.
There is a kind of missing that I would rather hide in my heart for a long time than share with others. Others won't understand, it's hard for you to see. There is a kind of yearning, which is actually established in confusion, but it is so vivid to recall; There is a yearning, no memorable day, no countdown deadline, but it is hard for you to let go; There is a kind of missing, if you get lost, you won't go around again, because you can go back to the original point once you turn around.
This is my deepest yearning.
Just like an angry paper plane, it will only get farther and farther away from the origin and lie helplessly on the sleeping land after letting go. The wind will only take you further.
Maybe it's not nothingness, it's not blank, it's a kind of repeated neglect, and it's a wound that can never heal. It is beyond your vision, and it is the pallor of another sky.
There is a kind of yearning that you once left behind, but now it is like a constellation.
It's just that all of a sudden, you begin to recall the phrase "life is like seeing it for the first time".
Missing the topic composition 9 Touching the face of our loved ones, we can feel that kind of kindness and warmth.
On Friday, my father came to pick me up from school. Dad said, "honey, let's go back to see grandma tomorrow!" " ! I heard that your grandmother lives in our house. "
"Well, yes, I really want to go home. I haven't been home for a long time. Then let's go home tonight and spend more time with grandma. " I replied.
As soon as I entered the door, my grandmother hugged me and said, "Dear granddaughter, I miss you so much. Do you miss grandma? "
"hmm."
I still have to go to my grandparents' home when I return home the next day. My grandfather picked me up when he saw me. "Grandpa, where have you been? I didn't see you when I came. "
"I was bored at home, watching others grow vegetables, and I wanted to grow them myself, so I went to the vegetable garden to grow vegetables."
My hand touched grandpa's face involuntarily. Think of grandpa who was so kind and kind before and died so early. Didn't you say that good is rewarded with good, and evil with evil? Why did my grandfather die so early when he was so kind to others? ……
Grandpa interrupted me: "Saisai, what's wrong with you?" Why are you crying? "
"Grandpa, I miss grandpa. You see, he is so kind to others. When others are in trouble, he will try his best to help others. "
"Everyone's life is different, this may also be God's arrangement! People cannot be resurrected after death. "
I said to my father, "Dad, let's go to grandpa's grave for a while tomorrow, and then go back to Changsha!" " "
"Well, if you want to go so much, I'll take you!"
"Well, thank you, Dad." I am very happy in my heart, but I am not happy at all. I am looking forward to tomorrow.
At night, I decided to sleep with my grandparents. How time flies! In the middle of the night, I touched my grandfather's face involuntarily. My tears came like a storm. My crying woke up my grandparents in my dream.
Grandma looked at me puzzled: "Son, why are you crying again?"
"Grandma, because every time I see or touch my grandfather's face, I will think of my late grandfather."
"It's okay! Don't cry, aren't we going to your grandfather's grave tomorrow? Go to sleep quickly and be alert tomorrow. Show it to your grandfather who lives in heaven. "
"hmm." I fell asleep soon.
Mom and dad took me to the car. I got in the car and grandma was in the car.
After a while, we came to grandpa's grave. I saw many flowers and trees, birds and flowers, and I thought, grandpa, you won't be lonely! There are so many partners.
We put the flowers we bought at grandpa's grave. Thought: Grandpa, if time can go back, we will definitely let you and grandma live a quiet, dull and happy life at home.