Rain lane 1 composition
Rain is like smoke, Gu Xiang's poems, bluestone's sorrow is dizzy. Quiet and winding alleys, who can do it? Lilacs are very long. Oil-paper umbrellas meet in the rain and knock on my heart. Looking at the sky, the rain in the deep lane; Keep your head down and your eyebrows are picturesque.
The rain in the south of the Yangtze River is always extremely lingering, dripping and rolling down, but it is tender as water, because it teaches people to love this scene more-misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River is elegant and refined, just like a painter's ink painting, light and clear.
The ancient charm of the winding bluestone alley still exists, and the drizzle is fluttering, and the green stone steps will be wet, like a faint ink, if dyed. The world is silent, only the sound of rain rustling.
Under the dark yellow oil-paper umbrella, he silently stared at the quiet alley, and his crystal black pupils were full of sadness-the spring rain was affectionate and young and affectionate, and it was this misty rain that aroused the teenagers to play with thousands of worries. "The bluebird doesn't spread the news beyond the clouds, and the lilacs are sad in the rain." Spring will die, lilacs will wither, and the good scenery of that year will eventually become a memory. Stop, stop, stop. "He hung his head and sighed.
The fragrance curled up, and he followed the sound, but when he saw the quiet place in the winding alley, the picturesque Iraqi approached with a hairpin and fragrant lilacs, the wide navy skirt fluttered in the breeze, as if flying butterflies wanted to fly away by the wind. The lilacs in the bun are lush, and the stars on the green steps are white, which makes the alley elegant and noble.
He gawked at the thin silhouette in the misty rain and muttered to himself almost intoxicated: "If Iraqis are like this, do I dream every day?"
As she approached, she suddenly stopped, abandoned her umbrella and let the rain cover her pale face. My eyes are as bright as the sky, and I am silent as the fine lilacs fluttering between my hair tips fall together.
She bowed her head, sighed deeply, picked up the lonely oil-paper umbrella on the stone steps and walked slowly. Yu Guang glanced at the boy in cloth who didn't know what he was thinking, and said to himself, misty rain is really artistic. Only a layman like me can't see through these ten thousand kinds of customs. It's been a miserable day, and the road ahead is boundless. Where is home? The rain is pitiful and the road ahead is long. Where is the end?
"Let it be, let it be." She sighed again and went away with the wind, leaving silence in the alley.
Disappointed, he bent down to pick up the scattered flowers in the bluestone class, looked up into the distance and only looked for the fence.
Misty rain, winding paths, cloves, lingering aftertaste.
Composition of Rain Lane 2
When I was a child, I always liked to walk in grandma's alley. Stepping on the small splash in the ditch, jumping happily, often hearing mother's scolding. The alley is really long, the eaves are really high, and the old banyan tree is really thick. Walking on the road paved with bluestone slabs, the stones are wet by the rain and can reflect light when the sun shines.
I have the impression that when it rains in the alley, water drips from the eaves and hits the ditch in front of the door, which sounds very nice. When it rains, there will naturally be water curtains in front of the door, just like natural curtains. I will deliberately walk to the front of the house and let the raindrops hit my head.
I don't know how many years have passed, the alley has become shorter, the eaves have become shorter, and the old banyan tree can be hugged. Qingshilu will never wrestle again, nor will it deliberately step into the pond. But only the oil-paper umbrella has not changed at all for so many years. I remember every time I played outside, every time it rained, my mother would come all the way with the rushing sound of water and gently fill my space with an oil-paper umbrella on her head. We hand in hand, relying on the direction of going home.
I have grown up, but my umbrella is not big enough. My mother still came to pick me up with an oiled paper umbrella. She took my hand and walked to the road that was too familiar. The rain falls along the lines of the umbrella, gathers at the tip of the umbrella, and then merges into a string of bead curtains, falling from my eyes. Gradually, I found that the oil-paper umbrella almost covered my head, but my mother's shoulders were wet. Mother walked on casually, but my heart was full of ups and downs.
"Let me get my umbrella." I took the umbrella in my mother's hand, and when no one was looking, I tilted slightly to my mother's side. My mother seemed to notice and gave me a push. I quickly smiled and shook my head.
It's raining hard, and my shoulders are quietly covered by rain. A little coolness seeped into my body from my clothes. Casual trembling. My mother quickly pulled me over, and we huddled together and walked quickly with our shoulders contracted. Two shoulders tightly together, warm as spring. ...
Composition on the Rain Lane 3
A man was walking in a long and narrow ancient alley with a gray umbrella. Rain drops on the umbrella surface, then slides down along the umbrella edge, drops on the ancient bluestone board, and a cool feeling comes to my mind from the soles of my feet. The cold wind hit my cheek.
The buildings on both sides of the alley are destroyed by wind and rain.
I looked up at Gu Xiang, with no end in sight, and my heart became more and more annoyed, and my steps became slower and slower under the obstruction of the breeze.
Suddenly, a touch of new green caught my eye. Oh! It turned out to be a grass that grew tenaciously under the baptism of wind and rain. It grew a few turquoise leaves covered with dew, as if it were a medal of courage and strength. Yo! A leaf hangs its head because of too many medals!
Wow! This is the first new green I saw this spring! Bright green, youthful green and energetic green inadvertently drove away the haze in my heart.
A smile quietly reminded me of my mouth.
The breeze playfully kissed my cheek and rolled up the ends of my hair. Hmm? Do you want my hair to go to the great rivers and mountains of the motherland with you? I think! However, my future is not far away.
Ancient incense is more classical and hazy under the baptism of wind and rain.
The noise of the market reached my ears. Oh, it's the end of Gu Xiang. Looking back at the mysterious Gu Xiang behind him, he walked away quickly. ...
Composition on the Rain Lane 4
The wind has been blowing, the rain has been falling, washing this alley, but it will never let me dilute every memory of my childhood here.
This alley is full of large and small potholes. My neighbors Yuru, Xueyan and Yichao rolled up their sleeves and took off their shoes. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, play in this puddle. Soon, when we were tired of playing, we took the sound of rain as the most wonderful accompaniment in the world, beat the time and sang cheerful songs with great interest.
After singing, the next hour is when we talk about the embarrassing things of kindergarten children. Yi Chao said, "There is a man named Liang Yi in our class. He is the king of stuttering! You know, he has this bad habit since he was a child, and he can't change it. He was so anxious to pee that his face turned red and he stammered with the new teacher. The teacher couldn't stand his temper and left. Who knows that he actually peed his pants in less than half a minute. " As soon as the voice fell, I heard a burst of laughter that couldn't stop.
Xue Yan stamped her foot and excitedly told interesting stories in her class: "Hey, you said there are so many strange people these days. We have people like this, but they wet the bed. Hehe, there is no difference. " The bed is wet, not to mention the quilt, but it has been specially washed. Well, count the time, the quilt and bed are not dry yet! "
Yuru joked with me and said, "Oh, you know so much?"
"hmm? Hey! " Xueyan proudly said, "This is necessary. I overheard it from an adult. " Then with a snort, we burst into laughter, and everyone's face was filled with happy smiles.
After the rain, our hair is still wet and our clothes are still dirty, but we still have a bright smile on our faces. Mother's urging voice came from my ear. We made an appointment to meet next time and hurried home in wet shoes.
When I got home, my mother scolded me. After being scolded, I just looked out the window and looked forward to our next meeting.
Later, we all grew up, stopped playing in the alley in the rain, and met less and less.
However, I still like to walk in the rainy alley. It's raining hard and my hair and clothes are wet, but I especially like this feeling. I looked up and took a deep breath. In the rainy lane, it seems that there is still a breath of childhood.
Composition on the Rain Lane 5
Perhaps, many people can't get out of the rainy lane in the end.
Qingshi Road, grey stone bridge and rain lane washed by rain smell damp everywhere.
Low eaves, a string of raindrops falling, in the water injection at the foot of the wall, a smile appeared, like brocade that can be planted, like running water, with the unique yellowish color of old-fashioned light bulbs, entering the dreams of everyone sleeping in the rain lane. Sometimes, from a slightly turbid small window, a pair of bright eyes like children quietly spy on the world.
At dawn, I don't know whose door is gently opened. With a shallow creaking sound, a gentle woman, carrying a bamboo basket covered with cloth, walked to the big flat stone by the bridge, whispering that she put the bamboo basket into shallow water and let the soft water wash it. Behind her was the mottled shadow of the building, washed away by the rain and almost unable to see the color of the paint, and moss climbed over. The skirt of blue calico is shallowly immersed in the clear stream, like a simple and elegant fresh fish, swimming happily in the soft waves.
On the horizon, a piece of Xia Hong covered the alley, emitting soft light.
"Pear blossoms close when it rains", and the courtyard of Gu Men is antique, with the word "Fu" slightly yellowed on the door. The closed door is a pear flower beaten by rain. Isn't this a response to Li Zhongyuan's In Memory of the Prince? However, it was a pear blossom rain in the Song Dynasty.
Smiling indifferently, I let the breeze blow my skirt, and the pear flower in the corner looked at me and smiled slightly. The snow-white, pure, flawless and quiet place deeply touched my heart.
Shallow windows have been built, and the whole rainy lane is alive. I don't know which wall, a pair of black swallows flew out. They chirp and fly towards the place where there is red light.
It was a spring morning, stopping under the eaves, watching the sun rise quietly on the eaves, revealing a faint golden light along the blue-gray eaves, illuminating the once wet and dark alleys.
The pear blossoms in the alley are still fragrant. I don't know which yard heard the singing of Peking Opera, and I don't know which yard's door suddenly opened. Several five-or six-year-old children jumped out and scampered towards the alley, hidden with the pear blossoms in that alley, and smudged a moving picture of a rainy lane and water town.
Pears are flying in the alley, trapping the whole rainy lane, like smoke, like clouds, like fog, and writing down a beautiful hometown.