Qingming. Such as knitting like drizzle, hit on the face, damp. Holding the elegant chrysanthemum, stepping on the fragrance of the soil, came to the familiar but cold place.
It's raining, it's raining all the time, like a layer of haze over my head. Closer, closer. Looking at the marble tombstone and the smiling you in the photo, my tears welled up in my eyes. All of a sudden, all the fragmentary fragments about you flashed quickly in my mind one by one. In an instant, Miss invaded the whole body. I sat on the ground feebly and cried.
It was the age of a girl with a hole in her ear and a boy with yellow hair. I just stood at the beginning of this age and faced all this with my tender eyes. Soon, I got involved. I started to go to sleep in the woods without class and began to tattoo the back of my hands. I began to learn all the bad things about bad children.
When my parents gave me a slap, I glared at them angrily, ran out of the house and rushed into the heavy rain outside. composition
I don't know how long I've been running or how tired I am. It's just that the tears on my face and the rain have long been indistinguishable. Seeing the mahogany door, I knocked down. When you open the door and see me drenched, you quickly pull me into the room.
Put on my cousin's clothes, press me on the bed and cover me with a quilt. "Grandma," I cried. "Go to sleep first. I made you chicken soup. It'll be ready in a minute. " composition
You wake me up when I'm sleepy. Lying on the table drinking your soup. The warmth from the throat a DC to the heart, warm my whole heart. I can't help it. I jump into your arms and cry. You told me a lot.
You know what? At that moment, I quietly put the warmth in the bottom of my heart, has been retained.
The lens of time is slowly pulled back. Looking at the black and white photos of your smile, my silent tears. Why? Why did you leave so early? Why not wait until I can give you a warm day?
You left, I left that warmth in my heart. What about the warmth I want to give you?
The warmth in my heart will never be forgotten. When I recall my childhood, I can always find an ordinary and warm picture: two childish children sitting in front of a man with a faint smile, listening to his story, one of them is me; the man is my father.
How many years of time, after another transformation, I can never forget that night, that night with light moonlight. That night, my father's kind face warmed my heart, which made me have more courage when I was afraid of difficulties and helpless, more peace when I was complacent and anxious, and more self-confidence when I was defeated.
I still remember that one night, the sky was full of stars, and the soft moonlight was shining on the ground through the window. My brother and I were listening to my father's story in the soft moonlight. Moonlight adds mystery to Dad's story. We have been staring at Dad and listening attentively to the touching story.
I clearly remember Dad's eyes, black and shining, against the stars, like the vast sky, enveloping us inside, like a spring moistening our desire for knowledge. Dad's mouth opened and closed, our eyes blinked, forming a wonderful picture. composition
I can't remember the content of the story now. I don't know why I can remember this ordinary picture. How many days and nights, I can always recall the picture full of an indescribable feeling; how many days and nights, I am always eager to go back to which night and relive the warmth of that night. Because the composition of this picture is made with the pen of father's love, which is carefully and carefully painted in my young heart and can't be erased.
Although the pictures in my heart are not as fresh and elegant as those of famous Chinese painters, they are more intoxicating than those of Western painters. Although they are not as real and three-dimensional as those of Western painters, they are more warm and indifferent than them. Because that painting is my beloved father, with his warm love like boiled water, always guarding the moment around the child. composition
Henan Hongli school grade two: Zhang Sanyuan stay in my heart of the scenery, in the evening, it rained, on the road, vehicles are moving quietly, people from work are also in a hurry to walk, as if everything is moving, only a father and son sitting quietly under a big tree beside the road, in the rush of people, in the busy progress of all kinds of vehicles, this is the best To father and son seems so at a loss, so helpless. They don't know where to go. Begging, which is the lowest level of social life today, is accompanied by the sun and the moon, sleeping in the open, and I don't know when it will end. No home can bring them warmth.
Watching the 'starlight' on the road getting more and more bright, they know best in their hearts that once the 'starlight' on the vehicle lights up, it means the coming of night, and they know better that they are going to spend the night hungry again. Thinking of all this, they almost despair. I don't know when the wind is blowing. I feel a little cool. The leaves are also dancing by the wind and the vehicles. Suddenly, a big leaf falls in front of me. 'Dad, it's money. "The son cried out. The old man looked at it and found that it was money, not leaves." I saw clearly that the ten yuan was lost by the aunt who had just left work. We have dinner tonight. 'the son said happily. Looking at his son's excited and happy expression, the old man seemed indifferent and helpless. Ten yuan is a drop in the bucket for people who go to work, but for father and son, they can have a good meal and buy an umbrella.
Looking at the indistinct figure of the elder sister who lost money, the old man has many thoughts & hellip; & hellip; maybe the elder sister also needs money, maybe & hellip; & hellip; There are too many possibilities in life. Looking at his son's eager eyes and full stomach expectation, the old man felt sad. He knew how tempting a meal was for a child who had been hungry all day. At the same time, he also had the responsibility to let the child have a full meal.
But this thought was temporary. The old man was stunned. He immediately got up and pulled up his son and said: 'go. 'Take my son to chase the more and more blurred figure & hellip; & hellip; the scenery left in my heart, the scenery left in my heart
Open the thick book, a landscape card came into view, so I began to work hard to piece together the fragments of memory, they formed a beautiful landscape in my heart.
In the morning, with warmth, the sun flew to the land I had not seen for a long time. I took out the quilt and put it on the iron fence. Then I went to school. When I came home from middle school, I found that the quilt I put on in the morning had been put neatly in front of the sun. My eyes fell on the place where the sun couldn't shine, where my mother's quilt was. My heart was touched by something, there is a long lost feelings run into the mind. I went to touch my quilt, too warm, as if the sun hiding inside, tonight can hold the sun to sleep. I felt my mother's quilt again. It was very cold. It was like my mother's hand. Even in winter, I had to soak in the cold water to wash clothes for me. Her hands warmed me, and now she still needs to use her body to warm me and quilt. Mother is like the sun, releasing light and heat forever, but she doesn't ask for any return. At that time, I suddenly realized that, in fact, I have been living in the maternal love, all the time, but I ignored the maternal love, and tried to find everywhere.
The most superior position in the home, the most beautiful leaflets on the bed, and even the best dishes and chopsticks for eating, where there is no mother's shadow. Mother's love is like water, always flowing on the river bed of years, always moistening me. composition
Slowly close the thick book, this landscape card also gradually floated into my heart, deeply rooted in my heart, a kind person is a landscape, a touching word is a landscape, a sincere love is a landscape. In my heart, the stars are shining and the scenery is beautiful.
In spring, the sun is particularly bright. Under the wind, wild flowers all over the mountains and slopes open their eyes, one or two, one or two Even into a piece, into the sea. Flowers open one by one, seemingly bored.
With a bang, I opened a bottle of coke. My friend and I sat on the chair by the side of the road, chatting and looking at the scenes of pedestrians. At this time, the friend said, "Hey, look at the old man!" I followed her eyes, not far away there is an old man with a garbage bag, he looked at me, no, should be looking at my coke can. The friend said, "he must want your coke bottle." I looked at the coke I had left. I immediately looked up and drank it, waiting for the old man to collect my coke can. He took a few steps forward and suddenly looked back. I saw that he didn't go on, so I went to him and put the coke can into the old man's sack. "Yes! It's in I said with a smile. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was late, so he took his friend to the station.
At this time, my friend stopped, pointed to the back and said to me, "listen!" I looked back and saw the old man sitting on the chair we just sat in. Next to him was another old man. I vaguely heard the old man say, "take this coke can." composition
"No, brother, take it." "Oh, you're welcome. I'll just pick up a few more.". Well, thank you, brother At this time, the sun shining on the faces of the two old people, red, smile is how simple, sincere. The two old men got up again and hobbled forward. The friend laughed and said, "how beautiful the scenery is!" Roadside flowers, as if infected, upright posture, enjoy the last sunset of the day.
It's been several months since the incident, but the scenery of the old man still remains in my mind. composition
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Comments: a scenery of true feelings left to the author's deep feelings, a quiet essay presents us a warm and touching moment, ordinary people, ordinary actions, but there are extraordinary true feelings flowing, stay in your heart and mine. The scenery in my heart has never seen the splendor of Hongqiao over the sky or the aestheticism of heavy snow, but I have my own scenery.
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Poetry of spring
Spring has come, silently, it quietly came. The weather is getting warmer, the migratory birds are coming from the north, and the flowers are blooming. In the grass by the road, another two small wild flowers wake up with the call of spring. It saw the clear sky and felt the bath of the wind. It was overjoyed. It tries its best to feel more warmth and geniality. With a soft sound, it blooms and makes passers-by appreciate its most beautiful side. composition
Words of Xia
Summer, its enthusiasm, its vitality, I have felt. But what I love most is its quietness. At night, you may think of the stars, but what I appreciate more is the black curtain that sets off the twinkling light of the stars. That kind of black, very deep, very deep, makes people think curiously