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Excellent composition of flowing water
In real life or work and study, everyone is always in contact with composition. Composition is a style composed of words, which expresses a theme through language organization after people's ideological consideration. What is the composition you have seen? The following is an excellent composition I collected for you. Welcome to read the collection.

Excellent composition of flowing water 1 Fish can't live without water since ancient times! If I were a small fish, my mother's love for me is like a trickle, lingering around me all the time, pestering me, and letting me grow carefree and thrive in this water of love!

I have been a careless boy since I was a child, and my mother is naturally nagging at ordinary times. As soon as I opened my eyes in the morning, I heard my mother start nagging again, "It's windy outside today, so put on more clothes"; "The kettle has been filled with water and put in the schoolbag. Remember to drink at school "; Check your schoolbag again, and be careful not to leave anything behind ... Every time I cover my ears and say impatiently, "I know, I know ..." Then I run out of the house, leaving my mother to repeat the sentence "This child ..."

One morning in early winter, it was cloudy and raining in Mao Mao. The first class is math. Teacher Zhang asked us to take out yesterday's test paper to correct our mistakes. I turned my schoolbag upside down and couldn't find it. I looked up and saw Mr. Zhang standing in front of me. I hung my head and dared not look her in the eye. "As a team leader, why not lead by example?" Under the gaze of my classmates, I slowly stood up from my seat. Didn't mom remind me this morning? "Homework is not here? Check the schoolbag again ... "I answered her with the same sentence" I know, I know, are you bored! " I regret it at the thought. Why don't I listen to my mother? Faced with the harsh criticism of the teacher and the strange eyes of my classmates, I am ashamed. Just then, I found a familiar figure outside the window-that's mom! Mom, why are you here? Her hair was wet and her lips were slightly purple with cold. "Sorry, excuse me! I'm Wang Yifei's mother. He left his homework at home and I sent it to him. "

I see, my mother must have found out that I didn't bring my paper and sent it to school like a fly, so I didn't have time to open an umbrella and my clothes were very thin. My mother repeatedly said "I'm sorry, I'm sorry", and I felt like I was whipped in the face, burning. The moment I met her eyes, I felt tolerance and understanding instead of anger or blame. Tears welled up at this moment.

After school, the rain is still falling, and I am walking alone on my way home, letting the rain hit my face and body. Before going out, my mother reminded me that it might rain today, so remember to bring an umbrella. Alas! Now I remember ... in the hazy rain and fog, I clearly saw the familiar figure-my mother again! I flew over, hugged my mother tightly, and tears slipped silently across my cheeks.

This is my mother's love for me, like a mountain stream, flowing quietly, quietly accompanying my life and nourishing my growth!

The countryside is a slender flowing water, colorful, projecting childhood dreams. ...

Spring has come, and the four seasons are full of vitality. Hard-working and simple country people, manipulating farm tools, run around the fields all day. The flowers and plants of rural trees have extracted new green, and butterflies and bees have forgotten the mixed fragrance of soil and flowers in vegetable fields all day. Our children are glad that the adults are gone. We gather at the entrance of the village, roll on the soft grass on the lush hillside of the mountain next to the village, and follow up to erect dragonflies, without worrying about accidentally rolling to the side. This kind of grass is smooth and widely covered on the slope, which is better than the half-dead, bare and hard yellow turf scattered on the street. Our weeds are natural and don't need any pruning. They are as soft as velvet. Lush wild trees, proudly standing on the hillside, proudly shouted: "I belong to the hillside!" " "It seems that the voice really came back in the wilderness.

Knock, knock, and the slender flowing water in the country rushes forward. Under the scorching sun, the man's tanned face sweated. We were lying on a big bluestone bed, chanting "Mao Mao Mao Zhen". Next to him, a big country dog, who usually barks at everyone, wags its tail like a dog and happily lies aside. Gradually, the bitterness of wool needles turned into fragrance, turned into a faint sweetness, even more delicious than cotton candy in the city! This is what we call "bitter before sweet"! Sometimes you are very hot, take off your pants and jump into the water gently: dogs dig, dive, back, and be free … much more free than city swimming pools!

Autumn is coming, and the cool breeze is kissing the leaves. Leaves are also shy. Not only turned golden yellow, but also floated to the heel of mother tree, and didn't want to see anyone! Secondly, the countryside began to have a lively autumn harvest and began to get busy again. At this time, we also try our best to help the work. My forehead and body are sweating gradually, and my clothes are wet and cold! Look, standing in front of the stove, shaking shovels, carrying bags … leaving our footprints everywhere. As the sun sets, there is a soft and cheerful wheat whistle in the distance, and simple cultivators drag their tired bodies into the house. Everyone keeps kitchen cigarettes, which look good in the autumn wind. Chickens and ducks stroll in the grass in the forest, sometimes pecking at insects, sometimes raising their necks, making "sounds", shouting and talking happily! After dinner, the old people lit a pot of dry cigarettes and watched us play leisurely.

Knock, knock, country diving. Cold wind was in debt and screamed at once. Against the cold wind, Snow Girl walked at a brisk pace and came to Shan Ye. When adults are resting, we often come out to enjoy the fantastic scene in this white world. Sometimes, we hone our hands, choose positions, build forts and start snowball fights! Our hands and faces are red with cold, but we are very happy!

Country life is wonderful! In the depths of my childhood memory, the running water is still flowing. Sometimes thick, sometimes thin, sometimes slow, sometimes urgent, the sound of water has been floating in my heart!

In the bustling land of Venice, there is a river mixed with light blood red. On one side of the river is the governor's residence, and on the other side is a prison for criminals. Prison is dark and damp, just like walking into hell. In order to prevent some incorrigible criminals from diving and escaping on the way to the prison by boat, a bridge was built in the middle, unlike Venice, where there are hundreds of bridges for pedestrians to cross. It's transporting prisoners. The prisoner who was sentenced in the Chamber was beaten into the basement of this death row and never saw the outside world again. There is only one chance-the prisoner is found guilty, and you can see the outside world when you cross the bridge from the Governor's House. Therefore, recidivists brought there are allowed. When he was taken from the Governor's Office to the prison and passed the completely closed stone bridge, the jailer allowed him to stop at the only window on the bridge and take a last look at the "human world". Looking at the "human world" outside from the carved window. "World" has the pier of St. Kyle's Square. A small river passes under it, and three bridges can be seen on the river. Pedestrians walk on the bridge, gondola shuttles under the bridge, and couples sit on it, singing love songs.

On a certain day, a man accidentally knocked the robbed person unconscious in order to treat the baby at home. Unfortunately, the man who was hit fell down and hit his head on the marble steps, and he was in a vegetative state. So he committed a big crime and was sentenced. He crossed the bridge when he was taken away.

"Take one last look!" The jailer said, stop the man at the window.

The window lattice is beautifully carved and consists of many eight-petal chrysanthemums. It's clean beige.

The man climbed up the window lattice and looked down. He saw a narrow gondola passing under the bridge. A man and a woman are sitting on a boat kissing. That woman is actually his lover.

It suddenly occurred to him. I gave my life for my children, even the future. This woman betrayed me. Fortunately, the last sight of this man's true face made me understand in prison. Oh, I'm really stupid, but baby, dad loves you. This has nothing to do with this woman.

The man wanted to kill this woman for his little baby, and ran madly into the seemingly thin flower window. The window is made of very thin and hard marble, and it is not damaged, leaving only a pool of thick blood and an angry body.

Blood didn't drip from the bridge, nor did the roar come out. Even if it comes out, the kissing woman can't hear it. But this clear river seems to be mixed with a little blood smell. Years, decades, hundreds, thousands of years ... it never runs out and stops. ...

The blood has long been washed away, and the tragic story has been forgotten by most people. Just say this is the bridge of sighs, the last place the prisoner can see.

Later, people called this bridge "Bridge of Sighs", which turned tragedy into comedy and beautiful myth-

If lovers can kiss under the bridge of sighs, love will be eternal and beautiful.

Easy for children's handwriting.

There is no everlasting love in the world, but there is a rock-solid affection, right? Perhaps it is this non-existence that breeds people who like fantasy. Those vows that the seas run dry and the rocks crumble may rot earlier than wood.

I never asked you to give me your life. Actually, once is enough. We can't greedily ask for your place in other people's hearts. Maybe, you are nothing. You are all just passers-by in each other's long life journey. How many people will remember those memories? No matter how long it lasts, when you look back, isn't it just a short moment?

Memory, let it slip away quietly with the running water.

I, with only a wisp of lonely wind. Walk alone into the vast distance of ignorance. There is no turning back, no concern. Just for the endless and confusing horizon ahead, I have taken my own steps. For nothing else, just to find a breathing space, no need to travel long distances, no need to sleep in the wind; Not for anything else, but for the heart that has been stabbed by the sword of reality for thousands of times and is still aching.

I don't like to draw sadness in the corner of my eyes. Just wipe your forehead, don't hesitate, don't look back. Choose your own path and go on by yourself. No bitterness, no sadness.

I never believed that there would be heaven there. I don't know how to expect the place that flashed in my dream. I only believe that after a difficult journey, there will be a heart that is no longer afraid of the pain after a beautiful reality. Yes, I want to find that heart.

In fact, there should be no extravagant hopes.

I still feel full with tears in my eyes. I feel embarrassed about these unexpected tears. Should not be so weak, whose life is not made up of such difficulties and pains, whose love has not been hit by wind and rain? Tell yourself that a journey with dreams, true love and pursuit is the most perfect journey. Those arduous treks, sweat, footprints, even blood or tears, are not all breathtaking beauty?

I plan to get drunk and treat wine as a song, which is strong and tasteless. I don't regret that my belt is getting wider and wider, which makes people haggard for Iraq. Jade pearls, the milky way flowing shadows, the moon clean and the wind clear, who will accompany me to sing wine songs? Just, yesterday's lush, yesterday's fragrance is not deep in your mind? That's enough. Maybe it's the only way, but I can't take a footprint with me when I leave. That's it. Good, good.

Fortunately, there are still a few good books that can be seen, which are enough to accompany me through this quiet night. There were 480 temples in the Southern Dynasties. How many towers were there in the misty rain? ......

If you ask tourists why they come to Cambridge, their answer is not because of famous mountains and rivers, not because of places of interest, but because of a university. Cambridge is famous as a university, and the university also makes Cambridge a temple in people's hearts.

Cambridge is a small town. When you leave the station, follow the crowd. Without a map, you can still smell the faint book fragrance. Modern architecture and Gothic architecture are intertwined, both modern and classical. There is no need to find a school gate, because this is a university without walls-open, free and independent. The town and the Ministry are integrated, and the town is also a university town and a science park. Walk for a few minutes and you will see a department. The Chemistry Department, Engineering Department, St Paul's Church, Cambridge Bookstore, Back Garden and He Kang are all idyllic and full of literary flavor.

After having afternoon tea, we started boating on the He Kang River. An enthusiastic young man introduced us to the pole. On both sides of the He Kanghe River is the territory of Queen's College. The college is solemn, with unique courtyards and neat lawns, which complement each other. "Look out!" The young man said in a flat voice that sounded a little embarrassed. He Kang is a little excited. Our ship collides with other ships from time to time. Later, foreigners all over the ship knew that the Chinese name of caution was "caution"

Crossing the Mathematical Bridge, the left bank of He Kanghe River is covered with lawns and boulevards, which is also the backyard of various colleges in Cambridge. In the morning, we swam in the backyard. Quiet, peaceful, free and casual slow time flows slowly like He Kang, as if it was so unhurried here hundreds of years ago. The students sat around in groups to discuss. Cattle either graze around or enjoy the cool under the trees. The newly landed white goose basks in the sun. Tourists taking pictures, people dressed in costumes and citizens in motion form a leisurely picture.

When you see a square lawn, many gothic spires, high windows and stacked arches, you will know that this is King's College without a guide. Strolling through Cambridge, many shops on the street can see the postcard scenery of King's College. It is the most representative building in Cambridge. The postcard was taken on the left bank of Hekang River: the beautiful Hekang River is full of light and shadow, and the deep or shallow lawn is like the product of the fusion of matcha and milk foam. Under the blue sky and white clouds, the exquisite chapel of King's College is in sharp contrast with the low and elegant Clare College. Quiet and peaceful backyard scenery on the left, tall and solemn buildings on the right, Youkang River like a gentle ribbon, harmoniously connecting the scenery on both sides.

The cruise ship is very pleasant, and the waterfowl is also very happy. Wild ducks flap their wings and rub their beaks and necks, sometimes playing ashore and sometimes diving for food. No amount of cruise ships can seem to disturb the interest of wild ducks. After a trestle bridge, the He Kang River is the world of Trinity College. The water is bright, the wind is warm, and the weeping willows gently brush my face with the cruise ship. I was intoxicated by the beauty of He Kanghe. Finally, the cruise ship turned back near Magdalene College.

Dad said that Cambridge is famous for its "free spirit and independent personality". Open, free and independent Cambridge is also the temple in my heart.

The flowing water in the mountain stream has a different feeling.

Notes before the text of a book or after the title of an article.

Walking by the moat, looking at the sparkling river, I can't help but think of the gurgling sound of the stream.

It was a stream, singing quietly in the mountains, accompanied by birds singing, and no one broke the silence.

Early spring, warm morning. With the continuous sunshine, the leaves were separated and sprinkled on the stream. The breeze is slowly blowing a faint fragrance, and the stream is rippling with a gentle smile. She ushered in the full bloom of camellia, faint fragrance with the smell of earth. The brook is singing, and the warm spring breeze and sunshine are like a pair of invisible hands caressing the cheek of the brook, so comfortable and cozy, just like a mother caressing her child.

Midsummer, rainy morning. The drizzle weaves diagonally, like a giant net, never letting go of any place. Raindrops float on the flowers, and the petals are overturned by raindrops, but they still bloom with a smile. The stream also flows slowly and rushes away. It's just the murmur and the rain, but it has a different flavor. After the rain, the dark clouds are dissipating bit by bit, and there is cloudy and windy weather. Although there is less warmth, there is more harmony without a ray of light, and there is the sound of dew falling slowly from the leaves.

Autumn, foggy morning. The wild fruits in the mountains have already matured, and the faint fruit fragrance permeates the mountains. Some wild fruits fell into the water when they were ripe and were swept away by the current. Mist enveloped the mountain forest, and only a faint light came in. The mountains in the fog are as beautiful as fairyland. The fruit is in it, like an elf. Swinging around the treetops is very leisurely. The stream with the smell of harvest, with a few golden leaves, merged into the river.

Cold winter, frosty morning. The rustling wind blows, and the fragrance of wild plum blossoms spreads with the wind. The stream is covered with thin ice. Frost is still hanging on the treetops. A piece of white. The earth is also wrapped in a thick coat. Snowflakes dance leisurely in the air net, fall to the ground and slowly melt into water. If there are too many, it will form a small puddle and pour into the stream. With the wind blowing. Form a piece of ice, quietly wait for the spring breeze to blow the green earth ... wait for the arrival of spring, wait for the stream to sing again, and wait for the gurgling sound of running water.

That stream has been with me for three years. It has become an indelible landscape in childhood. It has become the present, an indelible beauty.

The stream gurgled, taking away the good times of childhood, the laughter at that time and the childishness at that time. I grew up there.

Now, that clear stream, like a mirror, is no longer as beautiful as before.

But what I miss most is that one, that one is comfortable and that one is clear.