Part I: The Years of Song
The years of song, like a melodious piano, we are intoxicated by it, but not to go back, it called out our long memories of childhood attachment, and as if back to the happy childhood of the hip-hopping ......
The deepest impression is probably that small square! When I was a child, I went there every night to play with a bunch of children, running around, a string of silver bell-like laughter from us, we sat on the steps to see the moon and stars, stood next to the fountain to enjoy the cool water droplets, an innocent smiling face, a sentence of childish children's language, so that we became the happiest people. Now, and came to that square, the past lively into today's silence, we are still together, only to talk about the topic has changed, play the game has changed, but also very happy, but let us feel the loss of what.
In the depths of memory, the street lamp next to the kindergarten is the main site of our play, where the street lamp should be the brightest it! Sandbags were thrown on the roof one at a time, the sound of laughter reached far and wide, a shout, let us leave behind the boredom of learning, let go of the mood, play to your heart's content! "Then" "fixed" this tender voice again echoed in my ears, let me recall endless ......
That small garden also recorded my wonderful childhood. In the spring, where the flowers bloomed and competed with each other, the life is full of people to stay; in the summer, where the cicadas chirping birds, poetry; in the fall, where the leaves like a carpet, beautiful as a picture; in the winter, where the firecrackers sound, the gift of flowers constantly. Into the bushes, you will also find a variety of small animals, hedgehogs, sparrows, cats, magpies, stray dogs, I heard that once also found a squirrel. It is a good place for our children to play hide-and-seek, and a good place for the old people to relax and have fun. Bamboo under the tender bamboo shoots, the old grapevine in the promenade, flowers in the fragrant roses, everything, let me feel a lot of emotion ......
Like a song of the years, like a song of childhood, from a laugh, from a flower, I found the memory of my childhood, that a once favorite children's song, and gradually The familiar tune, never change the favorite ......
"Two tigers, two tigers, run fast, run fast ......"
< strong> Part II: The Years of Song
Gently I left, just as I gently came. The time is in a hurry, like a shooting star slipping through the sky.
Time rushes again as if it were running water. "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 life`s journey 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 gaze; the most cordial is also the teacher's gaze; 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 the moon's luster, the growth of the road to illuminate.
Walking 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 world 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.
Part III: Years of Song
Years of song, turn to the eighth grade. Looking back, I always feel that time passes so quickly. Mother's love accompanied my growth, in my life, all the time accompanied by mother's love. However, when I reached the eighth grade, I felt a sense of loss that I had never felt before. Maybe it's because I've grown up, or maybe it's because my studies are intense, but I say from the bottom of my heart, "I'm afraid the main reason is that I don't see my mother now that I'm living on my own." Even though I go home every week, how little time I spend at home now compared to what I used to do! I miss you, mother, your stern but gentle face; I miss you, mother, your unfailing motherly love; I love you, mother, and I love you for making my living conditions better even though you have saved your own money.
Looking back at motherhood, you always look so great. Although you also have a fragile side. But in front of me, you always do not let me see your fragile side. With your fragile but great body for me to cover the wind and rain. Others say that the father's love is like a mountain, then the mother's love is like clear running water, not as tall as a mountain, not as sturdy as a mountain, but there is a gentle and meticulous mother's love. Others say that the father's love to the sky, then the mother's love is like the earth, for us such as "flowers" to provide nourishment, but they have no complaints. Some students do not understand our mother's love for us, and do not feel our mother's love for us. However, if you think about it, since our mother brought us into this world, how could she not care about us! Even though sometimes she seems so cold, she is doing it for our own good! She is just trying to exercise us, trying to make us become an independent child, and how can she not be sad!
When I think of this, my tears can not help but fall, to ask the world for what is great, that is, mother's love, mother's love along with our growth. I think I'm not too young to understand this. Years like a song, the seventh grade study has ended, and now I'm in the eighth grade, but mother's love will never change, he will always be with us.
Part IV: Years of Song
Unconsciously, three years have come to an end, the laughter of the past more than a few trace of attachment, and now the struggle for time to feel unforgettable. This is how we once worked together will be parted. Spilling the tears of parting, with a vision of the future, we have decided to decide the seeds of their own future under this.
Everyone carries their own share of courage and desire in their hearts. In order to struggle and strive for their own goals. Constantly competing, constantly upward.
In these hard years, so much has happened, and at the same time I understand so much.
I am about to enter high school, the heart seems to be more of an obsession, more of an indefinable apprehension. I still miss these three years of time, there is still a trace of reluctance to miss.
Sometimes often a person sighs, time like water, can not flow backwards, and the flow of this kind of rapid. The time is like an arrow, can not be retrieved, and fly so strong. Sometimes, I'm distressed and sometimes I'm agitated. But in the face of this sunshine like smile, can not help but have turned his head and snickered.
Behind the haggard face, I don't know how much pain, sorrow. It seems to be a strong body with a lot of scars from the setbacks.
Three years, we carry the family's expectations, struggle.
In the past three years, we have been working hard with the high expectations of our teachers.
Over the past three years, we have carried our own hopes and perseverance.
For three years, we have carried the hopes of our country and moved forward.
Sometimes I want to ask the years, why do you go in such a hurry, can you let me see your face. Even if you stop for a little while, I will be satisfied.
In the face of the imminent separation of a smiling face, the heart is another burst of emotion. Unknown tomorrow we need to use today to create, the memory of yesterday we need to make up for tomorrow, now I really experience three years of hard work is just for this close call.
Slowly we are moving towards adult hypocrisy, now we always feel that time passes so fast. This is the footsteps of the years, hurry to come and hurry to leave quietly. Why is this? These questions from the bottom of the heart and how to do answer?
Article 5: Song of the Years
Silent years, such as mercury slipping down the fingertips. That kind of gentle, like the night recedes into dusk, quietly, took away the silk-like memories. Open the palm of your hand, you can not see the traces of the passing of the years, ears, the rhythm of harmony resounded. Years, it turned out to be a song.
"Dingdong, dingdong ...." As the song of the years resounded through the long dark night, just like a pool of spring water into the east. The autumn wind and rain of the past instantly filled in the back of the head, tossing and turning every night after sleeplessness, where to go, laughing and speechless. "The world is big, where is my habitat" years ah, years, stop your rhythm, give me a moment of deep thought, let me realize, is to choose life, or let life dominate us, spring and autumn replacement, looking back like smoke. Years ah, years, you pass every moment, I walked through every step, have not left a trace.
Just like the song, vibrating the eardrums, so intriguing, but no trace, to remember, just the kind of melody that shakes the soul.
"The sun is always after the storm, after the dark clouds have clear skies ......" Years like a song echoed in the tile blue sky, as a word woke up the dreamer. The past ethereal memories dissipated in a blink of an eye. Bathing in the breeze, each short day, how to sail. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that. Even though the years are like a song, you can still feel the notes beating. The years ah years, let me go beyond themselves, to chase the dream. Cold winter, looking at the dream of too much hall, years ah years, you jump every second, I stepped into every footprint, warm sunshine are flashing.
Like the tone, echoing in the ears. So enticing to deep thought, gently brushing the cheeks. It feels like the years are refreshing the memory, and that wonderful song is always provoking.
There is a feeling, called the wonderful; there is a tacit understanding, called unspoken; there is a kind of thought, called the endless; there is a kind of feeling, called the years as a song.
The years are like a song, strumming the sound of the heart!
That is a song.
That is a soft song.
That is a song as soft as a song of the years.