Some people say that the years are like a knife, knife urges people to old; some people say that the years are like wine, marigold warm heart ...... and I have to say that the years are like a song. Below I have organized the years as a song junior composition, welcome to view!
Part 1: The years are like a songThe wind passed without trace, but left ripples on the surface of the lake; the song passed without trace, thoughts but left memories. The sands of the years slipped out from between the fingers and carved the ancient song on the disk of life.
Childhood memories always stay in the world of dolls. The fun of "Dancing Dolls and Bears" filled the whole childhood. I don't remember how many dolls were dismantled into one-eyed, but I remember that there was always their company, waiting for the little swallows to fly in the spring wearing flowery clothes. The memories of childhood are as joyful as children's songs, and innocent children's voices sing innocent songs.
In the year after year, the swallows flew and flew in the backpack. I don't remember if I would have miscalculated 1 plus 1 at that time, but I still remember the song, "Little boy, carrying a schoolbag to the school ......". In the song, the schoolbag became heavy, no longer running and jumping to school, but stepping steadily, step by step, the figure of the children's song has disappeared, ear is "flowers have told me how to walk through ......". That is the song of sweet dreams, with the hope in your heart, all the way. Growing up in the campus ballads, youth began to sprout.
The road has been farther and farther away, the marks of the years deeper and deeper, I have gone to metamorphosis. I'm not going to look at the sky and ask whose eyes are flashing, but I'm going to listen to the melancholy blues, look through the sky, and wait for a meter of sunlight in the sky. I don't care what the lyrics are interpreting, but rather, I am mobilizing my own feelings along with the tunes. In the melancholy blues, pondering life, perhaps also in the process of maturity.
Dusk sunset, perhaps not to the age of looking at the sunset memories, but still can not help but look at the red tinted sky imagined the old music, imagined those accompanied by hobbling footsteps of the tune.
The age of the disk is still engraved, the phonograph, the age of the disk rotating, the memory of the song is singing, touching the traces of the years, listening to the age of the ancient song, continue to walk. The years are like a song, the song is like the years.
Part II: Years and years of songLazily lying on the bench, enjoy this year after the rare clean, facing the cool wind, the line of sight in the hazy smoke and rain, a long breath, a leisurely, peacefully, mixed with a faint sadness and loneliness, is actually the bottom of the heart ripples open. If the time is a beautiful song, then we are the shape of that cheerful five-line score, not the same state of mind, different eyes, full of every day, writing the song of youth that gorgeous music.
In fact, each of us thank God, because he, we are unknowingly slowly close, thanks to fate, because he, we were able to meet in the sea, thanks to fate, because he, we were able to meet, thanks to trust, because he, we know each other, each with a different body, but each with a sincere heart.
Flowers blossom and fall, the fate of the gathering and dispersal. Because of a perception in the heart, because of that strange pull, we quietly forward together, with fiery ideals, amazing wisdom; with our unique dance steps left a string of years, leaving confusing stories. The story is always accompanied by the melody ringing, we lose a self in the passing years, but also to find a self. Innocent, bright smile always rings in the silent night. Night, is the most easy to derive the story of the rain always come quietly without trace, soft footsteps into a fresh lingering in every corner of the room. Window that a strong body, under the lamp sweating like a bead, the tip of the pen quietly slipped through the paper, is not a deep and shallow imprint, but the heart of the most precious, can be long survived in the world of a friendship. Our days together have been few, once how much laughter, in the heart has been a safe nest, although tender but can not be broken, only to be in the long pages of the volume of writing a clean handwriting, the song of the years accompanied by the quiet passing of youth, drop by drop precious. Already in our hearts left not deep and shallow grooves, right there without increasing or decreasing, not born and not extinguished.
The world's most distant distance is no longer the mood that Tagore appreciated. Time has shortened the distance between the hearts of the great, yet time is also quietly pulling each other's beloved hearts mercilessly far away. Time will always pass, friendship will fluctuate with the heart, but the song of the years but hope that we stay in the heart, from time to time to sing, a little bitterness, light sadness, and more is that bright as a flower of the smile.
Part III: Years as a songI folded the past flat in the time machine called years, placed there, mixed with too much helplessness. Out of the blue like a dream, erase the clock swing those yellowing old times, is supposed to come a June rain, rub everything, followed by quiet into my middle school life.
"Years is a hog knife, knife poke people old."
Should be seemingly funny words, but no reason from the bottom of the heart to say some of the traces of age. Yes! Years like a song, its strings make us defiantly put down a lot of things, complete the face of the future of their own, but asked a song and how long? Immersed in which Mo is just a moment, a word between the ears.
The years have passed, but I think I have been thirteen years old young boy, weak lamb in this year also instantly grew into a "King Kong Barbie."
Time then went on its own bent on the track, as if by the summer heat intentionally stretched, those who call people boring cicadas, one by one, along the groove of those who love and be filled with love, on the right track.
After entering middle school life, everything has changed radically. The burden on the shoulders steeply increased a lot, has long been unable to use many to describe it, far from enough to write this vital note.
Early first year. Only one word can represent my deep experience, is - tired.
What kind of tiredness? That is a kind of unspeakable heart haggard "sick", the heart and not enough, every day of life like being boring pi circle like, living in such a complex learning life, by the same as the pi never repeated and no rules of things pulling, clueless, but also tired of struggling.
Gradually, gradually, day after day of trying to later completely adapt and perception, in the company of students laughter gradually adapted to this growth.
Countless yesterday and the reversal of the master tape so that I grew up a lot at once, no longer the child who would splash and roll, get rid of those who will make people laugh at the little people's books, get rid of those flowery colorful dresses, and no longer the former self.
Growing up. Not pants more and more to short, clothes more and more small, but the heart with the dream of growing up together.
The years are like a song, time and time have all told me.
Growing up, and middle school life has a close connection. Thanks to the years, with its melodious melody written by each teenager is a vital one.
I've gone softly, just as I came softly. Time is in a hurry, like a shooting star slipping through the sky.
Time again is like running water hurrying to catch up. "The water of the Yellow River comes from the sky, and flows to the sea without return." Time is again like a river that never returns, and can only be allowed to pass in the years to shame.
The meeting was yesterday, and the separation is in front of us. The first thing you need to do is to look back at the days gone by, and count how much joy was left on campus, and now your heart can't help but well up with a wisp of disappointment.
The "Farewell" of Li Shutong: "A cup of cloudy sprinkles is all the joy, and this night's farewell dream is cold." Time can not stay in a certain moment, flowers and moonlight, flowers and moonlight in the long river of history and the journey of life can only be a flash in the pan, perhaps with a candle at night is a miraculous plan.
The world does not have a feast, and nowadays the experience of parting is countless, no matter how much the heart of the unwillingness to leave, can not move the iron heart of the trip.
The vibrant campus, the most unforgettable is the teacher's eyes; the most cordial is the teacher's eyes; half of the father's majesty, half of the mother's kindness, the integration of parental love, y reflected in the eyes of the heart; half of the sun's enthusiasm, half of the moon's tenderness, the collection of the sun and moon's splendor, the growth of the road to illuminate.
Walk back to the campus path, step back to the classroom stairs, the heart swings sweet memories. Under the banyan tree, the robin is desperately humming, butterflies dance to their heart's content, and flowers compete to open. A good picture of the campus landscape, and then the students study diligently, the teacher patiently explains the wisdom of a hand to add, it is exquisite. The whole campus is filled with the warmth of teachers and students.
The time began to time, a thousand words can not be said, the dream left to the night, the tears left to the sea, the hope left to the future.
The parting of the ways is only a momentary event, so leave the blessings of a thousand words in your heart and pray.
Fifteen years old, the years of hope. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new one, and you'll be able to do that. The first thing you need to do is to make sure that you have a good understanding of what you are doing and how you are doing it.
The years are like a song, so let the dream of youth play like a song.
After school, I strolled down the street.
Suddenly, the wind was strong, the clouds to the people's head pressure, the road of the small trees, issued a "clatter clatter" sound, as if to say: "This is what happened?" At this time, pouring rain, to the people.
I quickly run a supermarket under the eaves to avoid the rain, then, ran over to an aunt, she held a child, the child in her arms asleep. I looked carefully at the child. I realized that he was wrapped in a raincoat, and the rain flowed from the raincoat to the aunt's body, but she was unaware of it.
At this time, the sky crossed a lightning, followed by a burst of rumbling thunder, the child in the aunt's arms was scared awake, crying, the aunt gently patted the child with her hand, and gently said: "Good boy, don't cry, mom will take you to the hospital later." Said, and put their own raincoat draped over the child's body.
Outside the rain not only did not reduce, but more.
The aunt looked at the rain outside, full of helplessness and anxiety, she must have been so anxious because she could not take the child to the hospital in time. A gust of wind blew, I couldn't help but shiver, I looked at Auntie doubtfully, wasn't she cold? The 'clothes on her body are all through yay. Only to see her, with their own raincoat, the child wrapped tightly, she looked at the child, and looked at the rain outside, without hesitation into the rain.
Years like a song, this auntie composed a melody of love, so far, still in my heart to stay aftertaste. Let me understand, the world's things can fade, but only love will never, it is always long green leaves, beautiful flowers, followed by sweet fruit.
Part VI: Years like a songTime comes and goes in a hurry. Unconsciously, junior high school has been almost three years. When I look back, I realize that the years are like a song.
The first year, a cheerful ditty
Middle school, removed the young coat in elementary school, but not yet had time to put on the maturity and stability of the fashion. At this time we are carefree, there is no pressure of the midterm, there is no test to interfere with our lives. Our days were full of joy, I spent my days laughing, chasing, whispering in class and reading little people's books. It seemed that our task was to laugh and play rather than to study, and most of our energy was focused on the 10 minutes after class. These ten minutes made up our first year. Whenever we hear the bell ringing, we are always energized and ready to go for a joyful and enjoyable 10 minutes.
This is the first year, a cheerful ditty ......
The second year, a lyrical ancient rhyme
The second year, life is obviously a lot more intense. Maybe it's because it's another year closer to the midterm, and the 10 minutes between classes is no longer as lively as it was in the first year, and I've become steadier. Gradually, the days are also in the busy and full of steps in the slow flow. Sometimes head down meditation, pondering a difficult problem; sometimes communicate with classmates, to overcome a difficult problem. During this period, there is the pride and joy of solving problems, but also the sadness and distress of failing the exam, as well as the gratitude and satisfaction of helping each other. This is the second year, filled with our feelings for each other.
This is the second year, lyrical ancient rhyme ......
The third year, passionate rock
Another year time flow away, I have been junior. The midterm examination is imminent, the pressure of learning is enormous. It can be said that the "small test every day, the big test three six nine," the point of tension. The first thing I want to say is that I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do it, but I'm not sure if I'm going to do it. Our nibs fly across the paper, our brains run fast. In the face of unknown results, my heartbeat accelerates and doubles every minute. Ah, my goodness! Cheer, work hard and fight for the midterm! Our life is full of passion and thirst for success!
This is the junior high school, passionate rock ......
Years like a song, cheerful ditty, lyrical ancient rhyme, passionate rock constitutes a part of the "junior high school life" symphony; such as the song of the years, the true feelings of school friends, the teachings of the teachers, the care of the elders deduce a song of the "unforgettable years" theme song.
Part VII: Years as a songPeople often say: "years like a shuttle". In my opinion, the years as a beautiful song, only a pity to sing near the end! Three years of time in the blink of an eye has passed, looking back and students spent happy times together, together with the beautiful memories!
I remember the three games, I remembered just into the first year, not familiar with the same classmates, even talk together will blush a large family. We are facing three years of time passes by in a hurry and separate, have remembered the tug-of-war held in the school west school, basketball games, when a class of students cooperation and competition with other classmates, how exciting, how unforgettable ah! Basketball game as long as a ball into the class will be happy to scream, for the ball into the applause! We were so happy! Even though we didn't win in the end, our cooperation and unity was the best reward, and even though we shed tears, we wouldn't admit defeat, because the word "defeat" never existed in our class 901. Thinking of a big family is about to separate, that is how reluctant to part! In this big family, we have sorrows and happy memories! Whenever something happy happens, we will laugh together, but when something sad happens, everyone will be unhappy! This big family cohesion of our 901 class how many students love, teachers and students love ah!
When I look back, I realize that I'm in the middle of the night!
Even if the three years pass like a song, I believe we will always remember each other! Let's ride on the sail of the years, even if we miss each other in a certain harbor! But I will always believe that fate will meet! Let once 901, now 901, later 901 never die with time!
Part VIII: Years like a songLong Pavilion, the side of the ancient road, the grass blue even the sky; the evening wind whisking willow flute sound residual, the setting sun outside the mountain. The end of the world, the corner of the earth, half of the acquaintance zero fall; a cup of cloudy wine to the end of the joy, this night, don't dream of cold. --Title
Three years in junior high school, passed in a flash. The scene at the time of enrollment is still vivid; the scene of military training, military training in the dormitory secretly eat snacks of the scene is still vivid; and friends in the sweat on the field, to get the bottom of the first, she comforted me; now memories are still as warm as tea.
The snack street behind the school, often with our laughter and indignation. Seven or eight grades when we in the extracurricular activities of time often in this snack street gluttony. After feeding our stomachs, we went to the stationery store, because she and I like to collect all kinds of pens and books. So, after each purchase, we both complained together, how we went to buy again, the stationery box can not put in, so all kinds of tangled.
The school playground behind the tree under the vines, often from outside the school "smuggled" back to the snacks, we talk about things while eating snacks, and sometimes unhappy, we will not eat, buy a bunch of snacks to hide under the vines, than who ate fast, and then back to the class with a smile.
When I was late, she would always put my stool down from the table, sit in my seat, and so on the teacher to check me that big group, you are back to their seats, I came into the class, she posed as a duty student to help me with my book bag, I quickly will go to the position, she passed the book bag to me.
Junior high school three years in the blink of an eye, will be leaving. But I don't want to say goodbye to you, don't want to say blessing. The best is silence, leave the dream to the night, leave our once dots and dashes to memories, leave the tears to the sea, leave hope to the future. Let the little bits and pieces we once had become the most innocent memories in the deepest part of the mind.