The sixth grade level composition "Warm" is about 450 words. In urgent need.

warmth

Flowers bloom and fall, and how many warm stories are staged in it; How many warm stories have gone away with the long-flowing water. On this energetic day, how many people are silently warming you? In my eyes, everything my parents gave me can't be compensated in this life. In particular, their care, love and attention cannot be bought with money. Growing up in warmth, I deeply realized this.

On the threshold of my memory, I will never forget: one day in the summer vacation, when my mother and I were cleaning the room, because of my carelessness, we didn't grasp the handle of the chair, so that we fell from the high cabinet and hit our chin on the marble at the corner of the table. Suddenly blood spilled out and dyed the collar of my dress red. My mother turned white when she heard running from the next room and saw me like this. But she immediately realized something, took out a lot of marshmallows from the medicine box, blocked my wound and sent me to the hospital at once.

At this time, my father is having a meeting in Ningbo. When he learned the news, he drove to the hospital quickly. Because my father is not around, my mother's burden is particularly heavy. I know she is actually more nervous and heartbroken than I am. At that time, I thought it would be okay to apply some medicine and wrap it up. Who knows, the doctor said that the wound must be stitched up with a needle. Because the incision is too big and there is much bleeding, it will have a bad effect. It's horrible to think about sewing with needles, let alone experiencing it personally.

Looking at the needle that the nurse used to sew the wound, my heart beat faster and the air seemed to be at that moment. When the doctor raised the needle and began to sew up my injured chin, my mother's warm hand gripped me tightly. At this time, a feeling of stability and calmness came to my mind, and my heart slowly relaxed. I know that my mother's warm big hand holds my hand tightly here, and my father's comforting words are closely connected with me there. I am warm and happy. I didn't cry at that time, because I felt the warmth from my parents at this dangerous moment far from the edge of life and death.

By the time my father arrived at the hospital, my wound had been stitched up and put on gauze. Seeing my father, I threw myself into his arms. Maybe now I realize the fear atmosphere in the infirmary. Maybe I have never experienced such a thing, and I am very wronged. In my father's arms, I shed tears that I have endured for a long time. My father looked at me with a smile, and his rough but warm hand brushed my cheek: "Silly child, don't cry. It's all over, isn't it? " Yes, everything has passed, everything will pass, but for everything my parents gave, I hope it will not pass and be preserved forever. After that, my father painted me with liquid medicine and changed gauze every day. It's hot in summer, and my father is afraid that my wound is inflamed. He cleans my wound every day and never delays a little time. Due to the careful care of my father, when the stitches were removed, the doctor said that the wound had healed and grew well.

Warm, do not need to use beautiful words to describe, do not need to use exquisite brush to carve, but still bright and dazzling. A classmate's progress, a teacher's sincere greetings and a friend's warm help all make you feel warm. And do you still remember the sincere warmth of too many parents?

2

The warmth in my eyes

-Like a winter fire

Just like the song "A Fire in Winter" sung by ChristianRandPhillips, it makes people excited. Some people warmed my whole body like fire on that cold winter night.

I remember that night, after piano lessons, I sat on a stone bench, waiting for my mother to pick me up. But I waited for a long time and no one came to pick me up. At this time, a flash of lightning passed by here, and a crisp voice sounded in the sky, which was nerve-racking. Then it rained cats and dogs. Unconsciously, I hurried under the awning, but the heavy rain still didn't hit me. When the wind came, the rain hit me.

Just at a loss, somehow, raindrops stopped attacking like machine guns. Looking up, an old man stood in front of me with an umbrella.

Grandpa smiled and said to me, "Girl, why are you still standing here in the cold weather?" Aren't you afraid of catching cold? " Hearing this sentence, my heart trembled and I didn't know how to answer him. He smiled and shook his head. Seeing him put the umbrella in my hand, I walked out of the awning. I woke up soon, stood beside him with an umbrella and said to him, "Grandpa, you'd better use it. My mother will pick me up soon. " And you are weak, I am healthy! So you can use this umbrella! "Put the umbrella in your hand.

The old man looked at me, smiled and put the umbrella handle in my hand. Still that smiling face, melted my winter cold, like a fire, warmed my whole body.

Looking at his lonely back and walking home in the rain, I really wanted to run over and continue to hand him the umbrella, but it was useless, and he would continue to hand me the umbrella.

Although, on this cold night, it seems that the city is surrounded by cold and the wind is still blowing like a knife, my heart is still warm.

On this cold night, grandpa is like a fire, which warms me when I am submerged by the cold. It was an unforgettable night. Every time I think about it, it makes me warm all over.

three

In late autumn, the dew was cold, and the north wind shook the old tree unscrupulously and barked at the bare treetops. The yellow leaves on the ground were rolled up by the wind and circled in the air, just falling and being rolled up again. ...

People's faces are full of chill.

My mother and I are walking in a quiet street. It's very cold. Even wearing a thick sweater, the north wind still comes in from the small hole in the sweater, which makes people almost breathless. Looking at a fallen leaf swept by the wind, I can't help thinking: another tough winter!

At this time, a thin figure appeared in the distance, sitting alone on the ground.

Against the cold wind, we walked quickly forward, and our backs gradually became clear. ...

That's a beggar. She is about 30 years old, but her brow is full of vicissitudes. She only wore thin clothes and trembled slightly in the cold wind.

Another gust of wind blew, and she held the child tighter. That's probably her son, wrapped in two quilts, snuggling in his mother's arms. Perhaps, it was his mother who snuggled up to him. She clung to the child. She wanted to give half her temperature to the child, but forgot that she was still sitting on the freezing ground, still shivering. ...

At this time, another north wind roared past us with fallen leaves, and the grass turned pale and the wood fell off, which was extremely biting and fierce.

She shuddered. However, I saw her wrap the child in the quilt again. Then, without any hesitation, she took off one of her coats and gently covered the child.

Her body is like leaves in late autumn, shaking badly, but the warmth between her eyebrows and eyes can drive away the cold. She looked at the sleeping face of the child, and a warm smile appeared on her face. The fundus is infinite love and infinite warmth. ...

She held the child tightly, stood up from the ground and walked away step by step ... Only the child in her arms was still asleep, as if she didn't know the predicament he was facing, or he knew that he would never be cold, because no matter how strong the wind was, his mother could shelter him, leaving him only warmth.

The cold wind blew, and suddenly a dress fell on me, making me feel warm. Looking back, I only saw my mother's face warm. ...

four

On Sunday, I walked on the overpass. Suddenly, an uncle's fruit bag was broken, and oranges spilled all over the floor and rolled down the stairs. My uncle is in a hurry. People around us got together, some helped uncle pick oranges, others said, "I have a big bag of oranges for you." Someone patted his uncle on the shoulder and said, "Don't worry, you won't lose it." Even a few primary school students began to carry my uncle's bag. One, two, three … I was moved by the gathering of oranges in the bag.

In the afternoon, I went to an English class. "ah!" With a scream, the students turned their eyes to Wang Ting who was pinned down by the table. I saw her hands on the ground, groaning. Male students quickly lifted the table, and several female students helped Wang Ting go downstairs to the hospital. At the hospital, the doctor carefully cleaned Wang Ting's wound, bandaged it, and told her to change the medicine on time. On the way back, several students held Wang Ting carefully for fear of throwing her down again. ...

This warm little thing is full of love everywhere. Let's grow up healthily and happily in the sunshine of love!

five

I heard a familiar voice again.

It's really warm

Really happy a lot.

Hehe, I am looking forward to it.

Daoxiang in Jay Chou's Works

I didn't feel anything last time

But I just saw a man listening to those paintings by Daoxiang.

I think the lyrics are good and simple.

Unfortunately, I didn't grow up in Daoxiang when I was a child.

But it's still beautiful

Go home, back to the original beauty.

Maybe we shouldn't be too headstrong.

Composition is a warm moment.

Warm? It should be a lot.

But because it is a composition, it lacks a lot of inspiration.

Write a log first

Then, like Ningning last time,

Change a diary into a composition

The teacher read it and the friend read it.

Very different.

Cai Minyou's old place

It's also warm.

Follow the evening breeze

Go to that old place again

My bike is still used to leaning against your wall.

Led zeppelin's Stairs to Heaven

When everything is one, one is everything.

Make a stone, don't roll.

Almost torn.

Shenmu and the Song of Students

That sounds really cool.

Every capital is

The voices of two people are really good.

Especially Meizhen's.

Very penetrating.

The devil's trill in Tatini.

It is a great honor to find it.

If you can hear the original play by the devil.

And then die without regret.

six

In the warm light, the family ate a delicious meal and happily got together to watch a wonderful program after dinner ... what a wonderful time, but all this can only be extravagant hopes in the eyes of my mother and me.

My father works in Mozambique, which is a distant African country. Four years ago, my father, as an "envoy of international friendship", was ordered to go to Mozambique for infrastructure construction. He hasn't been home for four years. Usually we can only contact by phone and letter. The happiest thing in our family is talking to my father on the phone.

Because of the time difference, every time my mother calls my father, it is late at night, so my mother has been sitting on the sofa waiting for the time to talk to my father. When the phone was connected, I was already sleepy. When I heard my mother tell me to talk to my father, I jumped out of bed like a stimulant and grabbed the phone, as if I had a thousand words to say to my father, but for a moment I was incoherent and just called "Dad" one after another. Before I could say anything, tears came out first. My mother was afraid that my crying would make my dad sad, so she "grabbed" the phone to communicate with my dad: "Did you have a good time there? Don't worry about me and my children. Kangkang has grown up, his body is strong, and his study is good ... "At this moment, I rushed up to beg my mother to let me talk to my father. I answered the phone and said eagerly, "Dad, I miss you. Can my mother and I go to see you? " Dad's familiar voice came from the other side of the world: "son, yes, yes, dad misses you too!" " "Before I said a few words, my mother poked me and said," All right! International call. What you said doesn't matter, say something practical. "My mother took the phone to talk to my dad again. My mother said, with a happy smile on her face, and I sat there silently watching. At this time, I think the telephone line conveys not only words, but also endless thoughts and care of relatives. Although my father and I are far apart in Qian Shan, our hearts are always connected.

The warmth of other people's homes is the joy of family reunion, while the warmth of my home is to tell my father endless thoughts through the thin telephone line on the phone every week through Qianshan.