Spring Children's Prose Recitation News
Wind, shaking branches, water, bleaching duck feathers, looking forward to the whole winter, you see, spring is coming! Let's put on spring clothes, like a bird with new feathers, flying over the Woods and hills, full of spring laughter.
When I see the first butterfly coming, it will pull my feet; I grabbed it happily and released it lovingly.
I couldn't help jumping for joy when I saw the first daisy in full bloom. Xiaohua, do you still recognize me? Look how big I've grown!
Come to the branch that fell last year and wait for it to spit out new green shoots; Then wake up the sleeping stream, listen to it sing and run with you.
Tired from walking, I lay on the field with the bright sunshine above my head.
Ah, who is stroking my cheek? Ah, is it the green grass that has been drilled around you?
Children's Prose Recitation Draft II "Dad"
When dad is happy
Speak loudly
The ceiling will vibrate.
When dad is sad
Eyes glazed over.
Like a wooden head.
When dad is angry,
Like a volcanic eruption
Who touched it?
Whoever is unlucky is unlucky.
Three drafts of children's prose recitation may be
I am a child spoiled by my mother.
I am very self willed
I hope
Every moment.
As beautiful as colored crayons.
I hope
You can draw on your beloved white paper.
Freedom to paint clumsily.
Draw the next picture Never.
With tears in my eyes
A piece of sky
A feather and leaf belonging to the sky.
Light green night and apples
I want to draw the morning.
Draw dew
The smile you can see.
Draw all the youngest
Love without pain
She has never seen a cloud.
Her eyes are the color of a clear sky.
She always looks at me.
Forever, watch
Never turn around suddenly.
I want to paint the distant scenery.
Draw a clear horizon and water waves
Draw many happy rivers.
Draw a hill
Covered with faint fluff.
I put them together.
Let them fall in love.
Let every acquiescence
Every quiet spring throbs.
Turned into a little flower's birthday.
I also want to paint the future.
I haven't seen her, and I can't.
But I know she is beautiful.
I drew her autumn clothes.
Draw those burning candles and maple leaves
I paint a lot because I love her.
Extinguished heart
Hua wedding
Draw an early-rising festival.
There is cellophane on it.
And illustrations of northern fairy tales
I am a wayward child.
I want to sweep away all misfortunes.
I think on earth
Draw all the windows
Let all eyes get used to the darkness.
Accustomed to the light
I want to paint a style.
Draw a mountain higher than the last one.
Draw the desire of the oriental nation.
Draw the sea
Endless sweet sound
Finally, in the corner of the paper
I want to paint myself, too
Draw a koala
He sat in the dark jungle of Victoria.
Sitting on a quiet branch
stare blankly
He has no home.
There is no heart in the distance.
He only has, a lot.
Berry dream
And big eyes.
I hope
think
But somehow,
I have no crayons.
Don't get a color moment.
I only have me.
My fingers and pain.
Just shredded pieces.
Beloved white paper
Let them find butterflies.
Let them disappear from today.
I'm still a kid.
A child spoiled by an imaginary mother
I am very self willed
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