People have fresh memories of childhood events. Some people's childhood is vigorous, some people's childhood is ordinary, but it is full of happiness in this ordinary. The following is an example of a second-grade childhood composition I collected for you. I hope you like it.
Childhood is like a garden, bitterness is bitter gourd, sadness is dead flower, happiness is peony flower, and sweetness is rose. Now let me hold a peony flower and tell you her fragrance in detail.
I remember once, when I was six years old, I went to my grandmother's house to play. First I feed pigs, then I tease dogs, and finally I point my sword at chickens. I asked my brother to catch chickens. "Three, two, one, go, catch the chicken!" I gave the order. Then, my brother and I spent half our lives. Fly to the chickens pecking at corn. Hey, I go after this, and my brother goes after that. After chasing for a long time, I broke out in a sweat and finally drove the chicken to a dead corner. It's a pity that the old saying goes-a dog jumps over a wall, and a rabbit will bite back when it is anxious, let alone a chicken. The chicken spread its wings and swung up and down, holding its head high and making a hoarse cry to me. Perhaps because of fear, his cry became a "yo-yo, yo-yo" voice, as if he were a wolf instead of a chicken. I was so scared that I flashed aside, and the chicken immediately put away its face and flew back to the henhouse.
I'm flustered, let alone my brother. After a short rest, my passion came up again. This time, I learned my lesson. I have a net in my left hand and a bamboo pole in my right. I stared at the chicken coop, put the bamboo stick through the mesh on the lid and put it into the chicken coop and stirred it. Suddenly, chicken feathers flew about. A chicken's paw got stuck, so I quickly put it in the cage. Suddenly, the depression disappeared. My brother and I said, "Hey, brother, let's arrest the rooster that scared me away just now, shall we?" My brother nodded happily. I grabbed the fork and ran. I also rushed to the chicken with a bamboo stick. The chicken did the same thing again, trying to scare me away. My brother took a step back. I said, "I'm not afraid. He'll scare people. Then I picked up the net and caught him as soon as I threw it. After a while, I tied its leg with a rope, threw it into the water and pulled it up again. My brother picked up a lighter to help it dry. Unexpectedly, his tail hair was ignited. When I saw something bad, I immediately threw it into the water and pulled it up again. It ran as soon as it landed, but it was tied by a rope and was dragged back after just two steps. At this point, I just want to ask the psychological shadow area of this rooster?
Childhood is beautiful. Although it has been five years, I still think it happened yesterday. Childhood is wonderful!
How to write a second-grade childhood composition (Chapter 2) The bright red scarf flutters on the chest, and we solemnly swear here: I am a member of the Chinese Young Pioneers. Step into the study life, speak actively in class, and laugh after class.
Life in primary school is happy, but he flies like time, as white as pearls, as pure and precious as white Hada.
Childhood life is beautiful. We can suck the dew of nature, absorb the sunshine and enjoy the beauty of human life.
Time is passing quietly, and we have changed from lovely dolls to young boys and girls. We will step into the hall of junior high school life, let's set sail for the most glorious era in life-youth.
Say goodbye to childhood, and we also say goodbye to childishness.
Naive, as a child, he is still childlike and childlike. But when we are young, it becomes very boring. When I enter youth, I must first get rid of naivety, which is an impenetrable wall and an extremely hard cornerstone. Naive, goodbye!
Say goodbye to childhood, we say goodbye to willfulness.
Human nature is mostly derogatory, which means being stubborn and not listening to other people's opinions. Zan: I have my own opinion. But willfulness is always a threat to our study and life. Be willful to friends, and good friends will leave you; The teacher's willfulness will not only be beneficial, but will be reduced because he can't learn knowledge and grades; If you are angry with your parents, not only will you be angry, but your parents will also be sad. This is not a lose-lose. Wayward, goodbye!
Say goodbye to childhood, we say goodbye to dependence.
Dependence will make people lose the ability to live independently and cause personality defects. To be a healthy and active teenager, we must bid farewell to dependence. Say goodbye to dependence, first of all, start with small things, do your own laundry, wash dishes after meals ... start with small things. Depend, goodbye.
Childhood life is vivid, and the innocent and happy childhood has slipped away quietly. What awaits me is a bright and hopeful day tomorrow. Are you ready? Say goodbye to childhood and cheer for tomorrow! I believe that the flowers of our motherland will bloom brilliantly and beautifully. Say goodbye to childhood, fly your dreams and fly!
How to write a second-grade childhood composition (Part III) In this bustling city, I haven't seen such rain for a long time. The horn of the car and the flashing of the colored lights urged us to hurry up. In a straightforward and simple life, even beautiful and short-lived details can't stop us. These may be the price of growth. We miss too many memories, just to abandon our troubles and seek an unknown luxury.
When the tired body has a rest, when the complicated private thoughts return to calm, the lyrics "Let's paddle, the boat gently pushes the waves away ..." slowly floated out of the song, which can't help but take me back to that red scarf era.
A small figure ran on the ridge, the grass beside the path danced with the wind, and a string of silvery laughter was scattered in the fields. Red berries in the bushes, nests made of twigs on thick branches, birds flying in the sky. Everything is so harmonious, everything is so difficult and easy, but everything is so familiar and unfamiliar.
I don't know how many adults use this sentence as an evaluation of me, but I don't know how much fun it has given us in the fields behind the house and trees. On the soil, they are like ants strung on a thread, busy with their lives, hiding in a corner, shouting "cicada, cicada" and spending many sultry afternoons with us.
After many years, when I set foot on the land in my memory again, the spacious roads have already replaced the narrow paths, flying butterflies and fighting beetles, and they have long since ceased to exist. Even in the sky, there are just a few boring white clouds floating. Modern cement houses have erased the unique pure fragrance of the countryside. Uncle Li, who once sweated in the field with a hoe, has already been replaced by a group of office workers in suits and ties, and that kind of warm greeting has long since disappeared. At noon, the sun shines quietly, vaguely recalling the picture of climbing branches and pounding bird's nest with friends, the fragrant breath is buried deep, and my dream there.
I suddenly recalled the lyrics of my childhood: "Under the banyan tree by the pond, cicadas are calling for summer deeply ..." The dreamy childhood drifted away with the song, and the trees in my hometown that once hung my beautiful childhood were still lush. ...
My childhood once bloomed like a dream.
How to write a composition for the second-grade childhood (Article 4) The house is facing the castle peak, and there is a green forest at the foot of the mountain, where there are green grass, wild flowers of various colors, pale old trees and a clear stream. There is an antique stone bridge connecting this tree-lined path.
I spent my childhood in the green forest. Now I have walked through the tree-lined path, crossed the stone bridge and walked towards the teenager. Childhood is beautiful, and youth is a dreamlike time, like a poem or a song, but I will never forget the four seasons in the green forest and the lost time.
In spring, we are always active under the big tree with our playmates, lying on the soft grass, or looking for mushrooms or picking wild flowers. Sometimes we tear off a branch and weave a green straw hat. Sometimes we pick a bunch of wild flowers and put on beautifully woven bracelets ... so we laugh in the jungle.
In summer, the scorching sun scorched the earth. We hid in the jungle, jumped into Qingxi, fished with friends and had a water fight together. Enjoy the shade of the jungle. The cool stream remembers our innocent years.
When the autumn wind sweeps the fallen leaves, the little farewell has an emotional atmosphere. Watch the fallen leaves fall lightly like butterflies, set foot on the path covered with soft fallen leaves, find red wild fruits and collect red maple leaves. On the path in the forest, we left our childhood footprints.
Winter is coming, so we can't play in the jungle any more. We can only wear clothes and hats, stay at home and watch the fragrance floating from the pot around the stove, and look at the trees wrapped in silver outside the window, looking forward to the arrival of next spring. At this time, the jungle can finally rest. Except for the snowman under the tree who can't wait for spring, we left no trace.
Now, when I return to this land and look at this green forest, my heart seems to have lost something.
The dream has left and everything has come back. ...
The years we once had are gone forever, and the Greenwood Stone Bridge is still the old wooden bridge. It's just that the tree is a lot older and the stone bridge is a little shabby. So am I, not the one walking on the forest path. I gradually moved away from the past.
Outside the window, it is very big, and it is raining in Mao Mao. ...
Away from the hustle and bustle of the city and the world, there is a pure and peaceful scene here. The remote mountain village is experiencing the baptism of autumn wind and drizzle at the moment, as if everything has nothing to do with it. Here, only the crisp sound of birds makes me walk into the fairy tale world again.
Autumn rain followed, and leaves fell to the loess, which made me feel relaxed and happy in the hearts of the ancients.
Watching those innocent children chase and play in the rain. Suddenly found that the naive color of childhood is incomparable to any color.
In retrospect, time flies. Yesterday, I was still an ignorant child playing in the jungle. Today, I have grown up. Maybe it won't be long before I grow old. At this moment, I realized that the lost years are irreversible and cannot be grasped. Only by holding the hand of time and racing against it can we realize the true meaning of life.
Rain, still floating. Fog, still diffuse.
My heart is no longer confused.
Memories fly against the light in the long river of time, and the surrounding objects gather into a colorful picture. My thoughts stay in the yard of the past, and small flowers weave colorful ribbons.
It is difficult to open the rusty door lock and push open the dusty door. Like the heavy sigh of the years. I stepped into my beloved yard with joy, eagerly searching for childhood memories with my eyes.
The small courtyard in my memory is not gorgeous, and it is softly soaked in the landscape of my hometown. Grandma likes playing with flowers and plants, but she doesn't like bright flowers. She only likes to leave a few plain ones in the yard. Or lilacs, or oleander, the yard is like a girl with light makeup under the decoration of grandma. Every morning, the yard is filled with faint flowers and water vapor, which stays in the depths of memory and never forgets. Grandma can make scented tea, which is the scene I used to be most familiar with. Take out a white porcelain cup, put in dried petals, pour in hot water, add a piece of rock sugar or a spoonful of honey, add Lycium barbarum or something else. The figure of grandma making tea is engraved in my mind forever like a painting. A corner of the yard is covered with moss, and a locust tree is flourishing. I remember that the locust tree was not tall at that time, and its crown was like a big umbrella, and the green branches and leaves rustled in the breeze. The pale green Sophora japonica fell to the ground like a star.
When my thoughts were pulled back from the past to the present, I saw everything in front of me, and lost feelings flooded in. As time went on, things changed. I can't help but feel a quiver. People are not, nor are things. Walking on the stone road in the middle of the yard, the flowers and trees of the past have long since disappeared, replaced by weeds that have not passed the knees in the garden. Suddenly I remembered a poem: the road is narrow and the grass is long. Close your eyes, but the fragrance of flowers still seems to linger on the tip of your nose for a long time. Look at the corner of the courtyard again. Fortunately, the locust tree is still there. I want to climb trees like when I was a child, but I can't. It's not the height I remember.
The white enough paper on the hut has already been blown away by the wind, leaving only a crimson window frame in the air. Everything in the house is the same as it was eight years ago, only covered with thick dust. Sewing machine, old wall clock, log table, stove … I held my breath and stayed on the old TV. Used to be my grandpa's big baby. I remember how many nights my grandfather held me in his arms and listened to people singing operas on TV. Grandpa explained the story in the traditional Chinese opera to me, and I was fascinated by it when I was a child. Today, I still clearly remember the scene of Mu going to war in the Beijing opera "Woman at the Sheep Gate".
I went to the bed, brushed the dust off the bed with my hand and lay down quietly. Suddenly, everything seems to have returned to eight years ago. I opened my eyes, and grandma was sitting in her ebony chair, waving a feather fan leisurely in her left hand and sipping scented tea in her right hand. She still smiled and said to me in a gentle voice like singing, "Dear child, would you like a drink?"
In the hospital, the flowers bloom just right.