Excellent flower composition

In daily study, work or life, when it comes to writing, everyone is certainly familiar with it. By writing, we can gather scattered thoughts together. In order to make your writing easier and more convenient, the following is an excellent composition of flowers that I arranged for you, for reference only. Let's have a look.

Excellent composition of flowers 1 time The train runs fast in the backlight, and everything around it melts into mottled and blurred colors in the flow. Looking back, under the dim street lights, along the winding streets, white flowers dancing in the breeze, like a butterfly, bloom in the long river of memory. ...

It was a spring season, and the whole world in my hometown was full of sunny rape flowers. I met you in the vast sea of flowers. Clear and watery eyes, sincere and clean smile, refreshing and natural short hair, simple and concise clothes, like an elegant camellia blooming in my world against the spring. With a knowing smile, the two hearts came together. Many years of classmate relationship has long been a thing of the past, but that friendship will remain in my heart forever.

You, in my impression, are not gentle, but have a feeling of compassion. Passing the street corner, passing an old beggar with ragged clothes and rickety back, you always stubbornly take out a few coins from your pocket and hand them to the old beggar with a sincere and friendly smile. Sitting in a comfortable seat in the cinema, the luxurious big screen tirelessly staged scenes of emotional joys and sorrows. Naive, you are always addicted to the tragic plot, and two lines of tears gurgle down your sobbing cheeks.

You, like a pure camellia, are not beautiful, but become lovely because of that innocence. All the girls around you are in the flower season, and they are beginning to become young and beautiful when they put on their clothes. But you are simple and tidy, and you still choose a T-shirt and a fat and neutral coat. Standing among the beautifully dressed girls, you are not as gorgeous as a peony, as petite and beautiful as a daffodil, as moist and bright as a rose. You are like that simple camellia, standing in the swaying flowers, emitting fresh fragrance.

What fascinates me most is your sincerity and enthusiasm for your friends. The sunset dyed the horizon red, and you took me to the station with a box of beautifully packaged fruit. Let's look up at the sunset together, and the orange-red glow is reflected on your face, red. I see your eyes blurred and flashing, which is endless nostalgia. In the distance, the bus came slowly. After saying goodbye to each other, I stepped on the bus. I found a seat in the back and waved to you through the window. Suddenly, you seem to remember something and catch up, but at this time, the car has started slowly. You hold the fruit box high with your hands, and your thin figure runs with the car body. In the wind, your short black hair fluttered back freely, messing up the magnificent sunset. A pure white T-shirt fluttered affectionately in the wind and was out of sight. You call my name over and over again, but the wind blows that voice into the distance ... At that moment, the brilliant sunset lightly pulls your shadow longer and longer, and the afterglow of the sunset shines on you, emitting warm orange light. You still hold the fruit box high with your hands, but your steps are getting heavier and heavier.

The flying dust raised by the wheels gradually disappeared into your figure, and the street lamps on the roadside suddenly lit up. I only see that under the dim street lamp, a pure camellia bathed in spring is in full bloom in the long river of the past, which is so beautiful.

Unconsciously, the train of time has carried me to the present, and it is so far away to recall the past people and that incident. All the way to Fang Fei, Lan Zhi, only you, like a flower in the depths of memory, fragrant the whole past.

The old lady didn't forget to water the flowers on the table before she died.

Then the old lady fell asleep with the flowers in her arms, and fell asleep forever, laughing and crying.

The old lady has a son named May. Amy's father died when she was a child. Only the old lady and May live together. Hope, hope, Amy finally grew up. But just as the old lady was happy, May said, Mom, I'm going to town.

At first, the old lady said nothing. But May advised: Mom, the city is beautiful, there are many jobs and high wages, so we won't have to go hungry then. Mom, May will come back to see you often. After listening to these words, what excuse can the old lady find to stop her beloved son from going to a better place and finding a better home and not continuing to suffer in this deserted village?

So Ami left.

After May entered the city, she went crazy looking for a job. He hopes his mother will live a rich life soon. But after all, May is a countryman and has little knowledge, let alone knowledge. In the end, May had to be an employee who moved bricks. May works so hard every day that the workload is several times that of other employees. The boss thinks highly of him. As everyone knows, this is because of this obsession in May's heart. But in a heartless big city, who will understand? Everyone just thinks Amy is a silly boy who wants money crazily.

May is also trustworthy. She will go home to see the old lady when she dies on holidays. Every time she goes home, May will hold a bunch of flowers with beautiful fragrance like fog and give them to the old lady. The old lady even smiled from ear to ear, happily took the flowers and took good care of them. Because for the old lady, seeing flowers is like seeing her beloved son quietly walk into the door and surprise her.

But that winter, everything changed. The old lady's Amy is missing. The old lady's heart is broken.

The first day of the first month is the beginning of a beautiful year. But unlike usual, May didn't come back or even call the old lady. Now the old lady is in a panic and fidgeting, and she has spent the day in a daze without company. However, the next day, someone came from the city, and the man looked hypocritical with a smile on his face. Then there was the same disgusting voice, apologizing in a tone of no apology at all: "I'm sorry, your son May fell from a tall building in an accident and died. This is compensation. Please accept it. I express my condolences. " Say, mention a box, which is full of red paper-bright, but also dirty, can control those human money.

When does the old lady need this kind of material company? She suddenly seemed to be sucked out of her soul, her eyes blank and she collapsed on the dirty and cold floor. She asked trembling, "compensation ... compensation for what?" Pay me a son? ! "The city people seem to be accustomed to this kind of action, and the disdainful cold voice answers, no, it is economic compensation. The court has made a judgment.

The old lady jumped up. Run out like crazy. In this way, I was shocked by people in the city. Then, the old lady "splash", kneeling in the snow, crying heartbreakingly, you come back, smelly boy, May, my favorite son!

The city people's eyes are even more disgusted, and they immediately ask their men to leave this place where rats are running around.

A few days later, the old lady completely collapsed.

She went. Holding a big bunch of flowers. The flowers show signs of withering, but the fragrance is still there.

That flower is the most beautiful flower in the old lady's memory and her favorite Ami.

Spring is slowly moving her footsteps, coming towards us step by step, silently like sunshine, inadvertently pouring on the windowsill without warning. However, you still smell the breath before spring comes. Viscous air, with low pressure, is like a huge net immersed in water. The moment I looked up at the sky was stuffy and thick. My heart is also stuffy and sad.

Nothing is more sad than being forgotten. Like a lonely shadow in a busy crowd, like a lonely swan in the sunset, like a brilliant flower forgotten by spring. I can understand the feeling of being very flustered, because at this time, I am also surrounded by this feeling, tightly shrouded and at a loss.

"Hey, what's that red spot on your neck?"

"It's a careless caterpillar. It forgot to take it. " I smiled.

"Oh, dear, it will itch. It looks really scary! "

After expressing her feelings about it, she walked back to the classroom without looking back. I want to say something with my mouth half open, looking at the back that seems to have escaped the plague, and slowly trying to swallow back the stubbornness stuck in my throat. I stood motionless in the corridor outside the classroom, just like a child who made a mistake and was punished by the teacher, so I kept standing up straight. It was not until the bell rang that I instinctively hurried back.

After school. Walking on my way home, I looked at the cars passing by quickly and didn't mean to slow down at all. I recall the look in her eyes that seemed disgusting but didn't dare to show on my face when she was repairing at night, and the classmates who hurried by but pointed at my back. I am introverted, a little inferior and more reticent. One night, in the quiet air of the classroom, apart from the rustling of turning pages, a corner seemed to be mixed with a little intermittent sobbing and a little itchy ignorance.

On the wide mud and stone road, the thin figure flashed by. With a small temper, I kicked at the foot of a stone that looked like a doll, and the dust seemed to be implicated, which made my depressed mood even more agitated. The stone rolled into a crack in the roadside, and no matter how I stepped on it, it was embedded there and stood defiantly. Tired of playing, I squatted down and couldn't help crying. Tears dripped down the cheeks on an unknown yellow flower. As it became more and more moist, the thick dust on the yellow petals was washed away bit by bit. It seems that the gold buried in the soil has been dug up and carefully cleaned, giving off its own dazzling light. I quietly stared at the golden flowers swaying in the wind, trying to stretch the branches and leaves. In the vast open space and rolling mud and dust, this little golden color is even more abrupt. The golden color is also reflected in my eyes, and my heart is more like sunshine through thick clouds after rain.

It has also been forgotten. Why can it be so vibrant and bright in the turbidity, and why can it be so vigorous and happy in the corner cracks?

Why not!

I patted the dirt on my body, wiped my face with tears left, and ran home briskly.

That kind of embarrassment is just an episode in my life, just like I will meet that little yellow flower on my way to school. It's no big deal. However, the road ahead is still long, and there may be more embarrassing things. So what? I believe that as long as I water it with my heart, that yellow flower will always be planted in my heart, and it will take root and sprout and bloom more brilliant yellow flowers.

It is a flower that blooms on the top of a cliff and never dies. -inscription

Maybe it's just a light on the corner. As long as you reach out and touch that light, it will light up a world and find a long-buried past, which does not come like a flood, but slowly blooms like a flower.

It is a flower that blooms in the depths of memory, either fragrant and elegant, gorgeous and noble, ordinary and strong, or sour and bitter. "Flowers will reopen one day", but that year's lilacs only stayed at the initial flowering stage. Even if she later bloomed brilliantly, many things didn't have more meaning of freezing and floating when they bloomed. It is a flower that blooms forever in the depths of memory. Like, friendship lasts forever.

In April, the weather is warm and lilacs are in full bloom.

I think I met you when the trees were full of fragrance and started a friendship.

Before we moved, there was a lilac tree in my yard. Whenever it blooms beautifully, the rich fragrance of flowers comes to my face. I don't know when I began to like this class, Lilac.

One afternoon, the light was just right, the temperature was just right, the wind was just right and the flowers were just right. When I was lying in a rocking chair for a nap, I suddenly had a feeling that I looked up and found you looking around at my door. I don't remember what you really look like, the only thing that is clear is the scene when we first met.

Yes, after time flies, everything is blurred, leaving only the original story.

You may think there's no one at home, but I'm hiding by the window and watching you. I still remember that you approached lilac slowly with a surprised and happy expression, and then sniffed it deeply, looking intoxicated. You just want to pick a bunch, but you are scared when I drink it. I think you must have been scared. Because I'm serious, you are a thief, and no one can touch my lilacs. At that time, I stood in the sun and looked at you in the light. I looked at you and smiled beautifully, like an angel. You looked good in a white skirt. You said I misunderstood. You're not a thief. Now you know it's lilac. You just pass by the wall every day, attracted by flowers, and unconsciously became interested in it, and then fell in love with the smell. When you said these words, you stood by the lilac and smiled and held out your hand to me. In an instant, I saw the aperture slowly blooming around you, radiant and warm with lilacs, which made me feel like an angel reaching out to meet me.

I immediately dropped my guard, held your hand and smiled at each other. Then I talked to you all afternoon about lilacs. Finally, I smiled and said, we are friends. At that time, my heart was full of joy and exclamation. I don't know until I grow up. It's called a brief encounter.

That day, the wind was warm, the sky was blue, too clear and too dazzling. Lilacs play the heart sound of spring, and the spring breeze sings the warmth in my heart. Looking at the blue sky, clusters of white are floating and the flowers are soft. My mind is also soft, singing happily.

A lilac let us know each other. We hope this like-minded relationship will last for a long time, but everything is not satisfactory. Soon, I will move. I haven't heard from it or her since. I still remember the day I left, looking back through the window, I vaguely saw something shaking and falling all over the floor. Time goes back to the day I left, and I tell you that I gave it to you. I understand the promise in your eyes, firm.

Now, are you okay? Will you, like me, see the warm sunshine at a certain time and suddenly think of me, the flower we once owned, the friend you made with short memories, and the girl who once liked cloves as much as you?

Lilac, a small flower, smells all over the world and will bloom forever at a certain moment, with some thoughts and feelings. Later, I learned that cloves symbolize friendship and are pure and flawless. Until later, I didn't know that Lilac also had a name called Bai Lixin. Does it mean that our friendship is fragrant, so far away, and Wan Li is gone with the wind?

Friendship blooms.

In the afternoon, I sat by the window, the sun was warm, and through the cracks in the leaves, I cast a little spot on the ground, and the small sunflowers under the window bloomed brilliantly.

Looking at its life in full bloom, my eyes involuntarily fell on the piece of white paper in my hand. Sunflowers are written in bright colors on white paper, and the flowers in my life are in the depths of my memory.

That day, I was walking on my way to school with a stack of books in my arms, and the sun shone lazily on me. Because it was still early, I walked casually, enjoying this happy time while walking.

Suddenly, I was hit by a running boy, and my book was scattered all over the floor. I quickly squatted down and picked up the scattered books. I thought the little boy had run away. Unexpectedly, I looked up after reading the book. The little boy looked at me with timid eyes and held a humble sunflower in his hand.

My thoughts were pulled back by the little boy's expression, and my memory spread.

I remember when I was a child, I never dared to talk to strangers. Even if I made a mistake, I couldn't squeeze an apology out of my mouth. Dad often teases me humorously, saying that I have a hard time talking. But my mother always said nothing, only looked at me with comforting and encouraging eyes and smiled at me.

One day, my friend and I just picked sunflowers, and we were running around playing games when an elder sister came up to us with something in her hand. I thought I wouldn't bump into that girl, but God seems to be joking with me. The less I want to bump into her, the more I want to bump into her. My sister's bag fell to the ground, and Huang Chengcheng's oranges rolled all over the floor, so my sister quickly squatted down to pick it up. I stood by, my face flushed, tears in my eyes, and my heart was so anxious. I wish I could go back in time and go back just now, so that I can pay attention to avoiding my sister. But now that it has happened, I have to face it. My sister looked up at me after she picked up the orange. Her eyes are very similar to my mother's, full of comfort, understanding and kindness.

Looking at my sister's bright eyes, I weakly squeezed out a sentence through my teeth:

I'm sorry!

It doesn't matter! Little sister, can you give me your sunflower?

Hearing my sister's words, I handed over the sunflowers I had just picked. My sister took the sunflower and took out an orange from her bag and handed it to me. She touched my head and got up and left.

I stood there, replaying the scene over and over again in my mind like a video tape, just like dreaming. I didn't believe it until I heard my little friend shout my name.

I did it! I really did it! Great! I silently said to myself in my mind. Slowly peel off the kumquat in your hand and put it in your mouth. It's sweet.

From then on, I became cheerful and even spoke in front of others. That is, I grew up in that attempt.

Sister, I'm sorry! The little boy said timidly.

The little boy's words brought my thoughts back to the present. This scene is too similar to my attempt. It is also a sister and a sunflower child, and it is also a collision. I can't help but feel a little touched psychologically.

It doesn't matter! I touched the little boy's head, just like my sister touched me when I was a child.

It's just that I didn't ask the little boy for his sunflower. I think what remains in the little boy's heart should be passed on to the little boy and the sunflower in his hand.

Looking at the white paper with the following words written in front of me, my mouth can't help rising slightly. Looking out of the window again, the little sunflower still blooms beautifully, but it seems to have a strange power.

Sunflower, the flower that blooms in the depths of my memory in this life.

It is a small flower field under the blue sky. Every autumn, there will be golden flowers. Little me standing in this cluster of sunshine-warm flowers-this picture, with a refreshing fragrance that has passed through time and memory, is deeply imprinted in my memory.

I grew up with that big universe. In my eyes, I can't compare with her in spring. Every autumn, I hobble into the house with a bunch of flowers that I just picked. The originally cold little room is sprinkled with pieces of gold, like sunshine, with white walls protruding and warm.

When I walked into the house again with flowers in my hand, I saw my parents' serious faces and grandma's sad side face. Her pale face left traces of years, her hands trembled slightly, and she clung to the armrest of the chair and frowned. "Grandma, what's the matter with you?" I rushed over. "Son ..." Dad looked tentatively with little wings. "We're all ... moving." I froze, and the flower slipped from my hand and fell feebly on the cold ground. "Why ... don't!" I refused in a hurry. "We are going to move to a big city in the south, where you can receive a better education, and grandma is not afraid of the cold in winter." Mom added on the side. "You go, I'm not going anywhere." Grandma trembled slightly but said stubbornly, with an irresistible tone. I nodded desperately at a side. Dad took a helpless look at grandma and took his mother away.

"Grandma, do we really have to move out?" Through the hazy tears, even the big cosmos left on the ground was stained with sad tears. I don't want to accept this fact, and I don't want to leave happiness and happiness for this big cosmos. "No, son." Grandma's face turned to me gently, and every wrinkle seemed to be reluctant to part. "You must move out with your parents." "Why? I don't want to leave here, let alone you! " I looked at my grandmother's expression and was surprised. But grandma stood up, staggered, bent down with difficulty and picked up the big cosmos on the ground. "The universe symbolizes optimism and strength. Where she is, people will think of warm sunshine." Grandma became a little cloudy with her age, and her eyes were faintly shining with tears. "You have to face your new life with strong optimism like the universe-you must study hard for your bright tomorrow. But grandma is old and just wants to stay here quietly. " I took the big cosmos in grandma's hand, and tears finally rolled down my eyes. I nodded my head hard on grandma's chest.

On the day of departure, grandma picked a few best-blooming cosmos from the flower field and tied them into a bunch. Receiving these flowers is like making a silent promise to grandma. The ancients once lamented sadly that "seeing each other late, parting is longer, and the east wind rises and flowers fall." I looked at the universe in my hand, swaying in the wind, as if singing an ancient farewell song.

After coming to the new city, I bought the seeds of cosmos from the flower and bird market. I planted them carefully in the flowerpot. Maybe in the next autumn, they will be able to shine as warm as sunshine under the gray sky of this city, just like grandma's warm smile in memory.