Long-lost warmth composition 400 words

Snow is too late for spring, and it is intended to fly for the flowers on the courtyard trees.

Listen to the sound of spring. Look at the spring scenery and smell the spring fragrance. My heart is pounding.

Remember that long-lost touch?

-Early summer.

The sun is burning. The wind blows with a slight warmth, and the sunshine in early summer refracts on the hot ground through the dense leaves. Such a hot and poisonous summer.

I was in the fourth grade of primary school that year, and I remember being paid attention to by my teacher. That summer, my teacher asked me to take part in a speech contest on behalf of my class. When I got home, I couldn't wait. I'll tell you the news right away, and you're very happy after hearing it. It's late at night-

"Give me your speech and let me see where to add some actions and what to pay attention to."

"hmm." I gave it to you and fell asleep. I didn't know you had read the manuscript until late at night.

From that day on, you stayed with me every night, reciting the speech until the day of the competition. Ruthless nights drain your energy. But I didn't say anything, even if it was just condolences.

-Late autumn.

Summer has arrived. A fruity breeze brushed my cheek. Autumn is beautiful, and the beauty of autumn cannot be expressed in words. Such an affectionate and poetic autumn. In this bleak autumn, leaves are everywhere. If you step on it, the rustling sound will touch people's hearts.

I was in grade five in primary school that year. I remember that math exam, that exam, I won the first place in my class. But you weren't at home at noon that day, and the exam results were announced that morning. I can't wait to pick up the phone and tell you this achievement. You are very happy after listening to it. I'll show you the paper when you come back that night. Maybe he's too proud. Your happy face suddenly pulled down, and I was really scared-

"It is certainly a good thing to win the first place, but if you become proud because of this first place, you might as well not win the first place." Go back to your room.

Only these cold words touched the most vulnerable place in my heart. Tears ran across my cheeks and instantly fell to the ground. I heard the ticking. Mom, maybe you didn't know that there was another exam in the class after that exam. I won the first place again, but I don't want you to know.

-In the dead of winter.

In the morning of winter, the wind is biting, and the cold ground is covered with a thin layer of snowflakes. A cold wind blew, like a blade, gently eroding my cheek. Such a cold winter.

I was in the sixth grade of primary school that year. I remember that there was a singing contest at school that year, and I was one of the contestants. The next morning, I got up late, and so did you. I had to make up that day. After you wake me up, take me to a photo shop. When I came to that photo studio, I didn't know what you said to the makeup staff there, and then you came to me. About ten minutes after putting on makeup, you took me to school.

When I got to school, you looked at your watch. It's already seven fifty. I was about to turn away, but you stopped me. Gave me some eggs and a bottle of milk from my bag-

"Be sure to finish your eggs, or you won't have the strength to sing when you get to the game."

"Well, mom, hurry up, you are already late for work."

"You don't have to worry about me. Go to school quickly. "

Suddenly, I felt a little touched, a feeling I had never felt before. The cold wind blew and I recoiled.

Mom, I have grown up by then.

first month of spring

Invisible footprints are traces of snow. The endless topic is the winter of that year. A spring breeze suddenly blew, which made people feel trance. Eyes blown by the wind evoke memories.

Thank you, mom. I grew up that winter. A thousand words, too many words of thanks. We can only borrow Meng Jiao's poem "Thread in the hands of a loving mother, making clothes for the wayward boy's body". Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. However, an inch of long grass is a little sentimental, and it has won three spring rays. "Only in this way can I praise you with this poem that has almost become the eternal swan song of maternal love.

Thank you, you brought me into this world, and I am very grateful to you, because only those who know how to appreciate their mothers know how to survive and cherish.

The hour hand keeps turning, so does the light in the room, and the heart drops with the temperature. Do you still remember the warmth flowing in the past years?

I felt the long-lost touch.