Junior and senior high school composition (scenery not to be missed)

"Ding Rinrin, Ding Rinrin" The golden bell shakes slightly, and the wind in May is always crisp, mixed with a fragrant smell.

A touch of purples fell on the girl's palm, and the redness was shocking. When I looked up, I saw that my grandmother's favorite rose was slowly dying, and the petals were undulating in the wind. The girl turned around, it's time to see grandma. Under the setting sun, the lonely shadow dragged for a long time, covering the few petals left on the rose.

"Grandma." The girl muttered to herself, and the bits and pieces of the past reappeared in front of her eyes.

The girl is a left-behind child who lives alone with her grandmother, who always gives her the most meticulous care. She still remembers that day.

The weather is clear and there are no clouds in Wan Li. Grandma's carefully prepared small garden is full of vitality, especially the roses, which are enchanting red.

The girl still locked herself in the room. She didn't understand why her parents didn't come back to see her for so long, so she made a high-sounding excuse for herself and left herself to her unfamiliar grandmother.

"Knock, knock"

I remembered that annoying knock on the door again. The girl opened the door impatiently, only to find grandma standing there with breakfast, with the same kind smile on her face as yesterday.

"Ding Ling, if you don't have breakfast, it will get cold." Grandma came into the room, gently put her things on the desk and told the girl gently.

"I will eat." The girl responded in a cold tone as usual, without even calling "grandma". To tell the truth, girls don't like grandma, because grandma always looks angry when she mentions her parents. She doesn't like female parents. The girl doesn't know why. Since she doesn't like her parents, she won't like her. The girl just wants to.

"How cute." Grandma was not angry, smiled and reached out to touch the girl's head, but she threw it discontentedly. Grandma's hand froze. After she opened the door and went out, the girl heard a sigh Very sad, very sad, just like that rose.

"Ding Ling, going out to bask in the sun is good for your health." Grandma's voice rang outside the door again.

The girl said nothing. She looked out of the window. Rose stands proudly in the wind and fully blooms its vitality.

This story has been repeated for a long time, but grandma still takes care of her.

She wondered why she should do this to her grandmother, who was still so kind to her. She always wanted to know.

One day, she finally knew that grandma didn't like her parents because they abandoned themselves, grandma and this family. And grandma loves her, loves her very much, loves all her willfulness.

However, what can I do if I know? Just yesterday, just when she wanted to cherish it, grandma had been lying in the cold underground forever because of heart disease. But before that, grandma never told the girl that she had a heart attack.

The girl lowered her eyes and tears rolled down her cheeks on the cold ground.

Grandma's love is like a withered rose in the yard. I don't know how to cherish when I am happy. Who is to blame? I can only blame myself for missing the scenery I shouldn't have missed, and let it pass at my fingertips like sand in regret.

In a trance, the girl heard the bell again, just like grandma called her name with a smile.

Dingling.

When the rain fell, I realized that it was Grain Rain. I have no time to see the scenery outside the window, but I am sixteen years old.

Old textbooks, old wall newspapers, old playgrounds. In fact, nothing has changed, but time has passed, and we have added a prefix to remember it.

For a long time, I walked in a hurry, and the alleys and CD shops I passed by turned into missed scenery. Because I was busy studying, I told myself at that time that there was still a long time waiting for you to study what you had missed and discovered before. Perhaps the growth of age makes me lose my curiosity about everything, or perhaps too much leisure time makes me enjoy indulging in a virtual world. So that later, I didn't make up for the scenery I shouldn't have missed.

The sun gradually projected into a scorching shape. I sat in the train and watched the scenery outside the window being quickly pulled away by time. I tried my best to recall the pictures of the past, trying to stay in my memory for one more second. When the warm palm gets wet, I know those scenery have become a thing of the past.

"On the third day of typhoon raccoon 1 this year, I received three short messages from Z. First, did it rain there? It rains heavily here. Second, oh, then don't go out. If you go out, remember to take an umbrella. Third, good night. "

A diary hidden in a drawer a few years ago recorded some feelings every day. Looking back at the broken book is like seeing the crooked words written in pencil in the past. Now, no matter how earth-shattering things happen, I don't want to write them down with a pencil, let alone write those trivial things that can't ripple.

Feelings are like scenery. If you miss them, you will get a glimpse. I'm not sure if the names that have been engraved in my heart have really become just two or three words. I'm not sure if my promise is still there. But I am sure that people keep coming in and out of each other's lives. Time can dilute past memories and bring you new people and things. The new sweetness masks the old bitterness. And everything in the past can only be memories. The missed scenery is like those once brilliant flowers, which I broke.