Will write a composition for middle school students.

When autumn comes, the leaves of Platanus acerifolia begin to wither. A gust of wind blew, and many leaves fell in succession, piling up into a pile of rotten leaves, which gave birth to the hope of spring.

Qin has an unlit cigarette between his forefinger and middle finger. In the breeze, her long hair was brushed up, which had a poor beauty.

She smiled brightly, just like the jade bracelet I saw in the temple I have been to, without flaws.

I smoked and looked at her, and my heart ached.

At a certain moment, I suddenly want to pull her up and tell her to go. I'll take you out of here and go to a city where you can stay and never look back.

Just worried about losing, like the feeling of wandering soul, no home to return to.

I am a person who is never afraid. The only thing that scares me is to suddenly find someone leaving, and I will never have this person again. Absolutely.

There is a gold needle in Qin Er cave, which shines in the sun and hurts the heart.

We sat directly opposite the residential area, separated by a pool of stagnant water.

What is the name of cigarette R? Doctor? Hey? Disaster school? Let's talk about G- glycoside. School? Iridium vinegar pot? Tunxi? Where's the spoon? The goal is fierce?

It's like seeing everything about yourself.

Smell the tobacco between my fingers. It's my favorite taste.

I haven't met a man or woman I like for a long time.

I like those lonely faces and people with hidden psychology, which is intriguing.

Qin smiled at me, like a beam of light shining into my heart, generating heat.

Her smile is beautiful, just like the pleasure of a person drinking a cup of warm water.

Next time you smoke, be sure to let me accompany you.

Hmm.

That's a very happy feeling.

Yes, I smiled.

Like a man with a story.

Her words just drowned the softest corner of my heart.

Living in a state full of shadows for a long time, alcohol and tobacco are the strongest desires in the soul.

Writing, writing constantly, is like hollowing out yourself.

Until one day, a person closest to my soul said to me, you must choose to leave, live well, and don't live in pity.

Suddenly I feel my heart is wet.

Since then, his words have been appearing in my words.

Sometimes it is like this, like a sensitive animal, inexplicably moved and relieved.

I believe that leaving is my truest belief.

Good things will leave, as Zen says, dreams are empty, so why catch them?

I always leave, and so does Qin.

This is what I want. I don't know if Qin will leave. She takes root easily to some extent, just like the sunflower on the ridge where no one has walked for a long time.

And I, should be dandelion, will leave at any time without my mother.

A mature CD. Enya.

The ethereal Irish voice is singing:

Who can say why your road is like this?

Why does your love disappear?

Only time ...

I think so too. Time can continue and end at the same time.