A 500-word semi-propositional composition in late autumn

Falled leaves in late autumn

Autumn, inadvertently, gradually enters the depths, and the yellow, red, and mottled leaves scattered all over the ground are rustling. Under the rhythm of the autumn wind, tiny pieces are dancing, dancing in the beautiful autumn fields, dancing on the blue and quiet autumn water, dancing on the miserable yellow grass path; looking back at the bare branches from time to time, whispering once , the lingering love, the friction between ears and temples, were all mixed into the intoxicating beauty of the fragment, then you swayed, I danced softly, and wept softly, performing the goodbye kiss on the Blue Bridge.

The late autumn sunset, smeared with orange feathers, restrained the show off of summer, hanging lazily in the curtained sky, releasing a touch of softness; the clumps of flowers beside the Wishui River Reeds, the purple reed flowers in light autumn have turned into small white poplar flowers like snowflakes. The swaying poplar flowers are reflected on the sparkling river, and become a cold autumn color; the evening breeze blows, and the broken poplar flowers float towards the ancient city. In the streets and alleys, among the swaying reeds, the withered reed leaves linger on the gradually yellowing reed poles, continuing the sweetness between you and me. They will not be separated even when they are dry. The white frost is gradually rising, and the cold snow is flying, entangled Lingering, never leaving, throwing themselves into the dust together, if the glacier is unsealed, the spring rain is falling, and the reborn reeds will dance on the dancing water shore again.

On the bluestone slabs of the ancient city of Qianyang, a few camphor leaves are scattered, reflecting the loneliness of autumn. The old faces on the leaves are engraved with the years lost over the years; the fragrance scattered all over the ground. Camphor tree, like a dark black pearl, is full of the prosperity of the world and understands the precipitation of life; who has erased your long shadow of fatigue? Who is it, playing the wandering notes?

Have a cup of tea, lean against the window and enjoy the sunset. The sky is filled with red clouds, and several layers of colorful clouds are piled up on the horizon. The mountains, the water, and the ancient city are all covered with shining rays of light; the autumn wind is gradually rising, and the leaves of the Chinese parasol trees are falling. Drifting in the clear blue sky, swaying several times, breaking away several times, falling gently into the world of mortals, the interpretation of life continues the colorful movement.

The kapok by the Xiangsi Lake is still blooming, and the pale yellow fallen leaves are falling messily on the sad yellow grass slope. For the stunning touch of pink and white in late autumn, I stop there to dream back to the earth. The inn; the fallen leaves that come slowly are the thoughts that the flowers splash out. Just as the Bible says, "You came from dust and you will return to dust." If we have been apart for a long time, we will miss you; if we miss you too much, our love will fade. The love is thicker; deep in the love is a flame. In this silent autumn day, the falling leaves turn into colorful dancing butterflies. You fly around me, holding a white cloud, under the blue sky, whispering the quiet beauty of autumn. , the splendor of autumn.

In the soft morning breeze, the dew soaked the fallen leaves of the red sandalwood tree, and the scattered red leaves rustled the autumn scenery; on the ink-colored stone slabs beside the clear water pond, there were a few A red leaf still looks so gorgeous and dazzling, and the magnificence of life is extremely publicized here; on the gurgling spring, a few bright red fallen leaves float, drifting slowly to the distant stream, for the fate of the ends of the world, I am willing to wipe away the fluttering tears, embrace the sentiment of autumn, and have an uneasy mood, just to burn the green years that will eventually be lost.

The green pine forest is already covered with a layer of scorched pine needles. When the wind changes and the rain changes, the pine needles fly silently. Looking back, autumn is all over the ground; the cycle of seasons and the flow of time. , often inadvertently, flowers bloom on the street, and the grass is luxuriant. In a blink of an eye, the petals have withered, the dead leaves are falling, and the cicadas are singing. Although the fallen leaves have declined, they are pregnant with new life. Look, under the layer of pine needles , the delicious field flower mushroom quietly emerged from the ground, blooming with its short-lived mushroom flowers. Only under the autumn yellow pine needles can such a plump and delicious mountain treasure be nurtured.

In late autumn, the blue sky is inlaid with white clouds. Beside the thin stream, several maple trees have been dyed with red leaves. A thick layer of maple leaves is scattered on the ground under the trees. The red maple above is like a burning flame. Under the breeze, the falling maple leaves are the brilliance before life's gorgeous turn; a maple leaf flies in the wind, like a fiery red butterfly, with its wings shining, slowly falling on the earth. Above, the autumn fields dyed red and yellow reveal the romance of life, and the passion of the next season will definitely be more full of hope.