Composition in windy days

Everyone has tried to write a composition in our daily study, work and life. With the help of composition, we can vent our emotions and adjust our mood. So, how to write a composition? The following is the windy composition I helped you sort out, I hope it will help you.

Composition on a windy day 1 This summer suddenly came, as if it had flown by. The day I ran in the sun, fell asleep with the stars in the sky, and leaned on the horizontal bar to listen to the breeze, I quietly came back-the campus was still filled with the fragrance of magnolia, and the string of jingling bells in the corner of the classroom was still singing and dancing, crisp and sweet, and the sound was endless.

In those years, we studied hard, stayed up reading, sneaked out of school together to buy snacks, and secretly read comic books under our desks. The past is like a dream The tree beside the runway, Magnolia blossoms every summer. Floating through the window of the classroom with the wind, it was a faint, sweet fragrance of flowers, mixed with the smell of morning dew, which gradually spread in my heart. Occasionally, we will be distracted to enjoy the birds jumping on the branches, or listen to the scattered frolicking on the playground. Then I realized that their time journey had just begun, and we were about to end.

That year, the teacher stood on tiptoe to hang the string of wind chimes, and the lazy sunshine reflected on her dimples through the pale green curtains. A breeze naughtily stirred the teacher and the skirt on the ground. She smiled shyly, losing the severity of the past, and her sword-like eyes also radiated the light of March's gentle and warm sun. That small classroom is full of brilliance, the sound of books and the long wind chimes, which I will never forget for many years.

I vaguely remember the season when Magnolia blooms. When we went to physical education class, we climbed a ladder to pick magnolia. Boys rushed up like monkeys, and girls helped each other to climb slowly. However, this wonderful idea ended because of Alice's timidity. I climbed the ladder effortlessly when they fiddled with my hair. Overhead are lush green leaves, dotted with white. That is the magnolia flower that girls especially miss. With our common hope, I reached out my hand, gently and slowly, unwilling to lose the slightest bit of magnolia.

I threw it down and they followed. Magnolia dances in the air with the breeze. Sometimes when we meet a gust of wind, we hover, drifting from one end to the other, and we are naughty for a long time and don't want to fall back into our hands. Holding a hand full of magnolia, I was intoxicated by the fragrance of flowers, from the playground to the roof, and then sent to the teacher's desk.

"Wow, thank you so much!" The teacher smiled, revealing those sweet dimples, facing the sunset, which was very touching. "Where did these magnolias come from?" We are speechless. The girl covered her mouth and snickered, the boy scratched his head, and the teacher stared at us as if she understood. At that moment, all childish willfulness and naughty turned into warm love and sunshine, scattered in our hearts. We laughed and ran downstairs after the wind, and the flowers smelled as good as ever.

Perhaps, many years later, when I came back here, the rope tied with the wind chimes had worn out, and the magnolia we gave to the teacher had already fallen into the mud. Fortunately, the wind blows in midsummer, the wind chimes are still singing in the corner, the magnolia is still in full bloom, and the teacher's dimples and our smiling faces will always exist in each other's hearts.

On windy days, the sun is warm; We won't leave on windy days.

On windy days, I dance lightly.

On this day, we really broke up.

No longer accompany me to feel the ups and downs, no longer accompany me to see the clouds disperse and relax. On a rainy day, you will no longer keep a tacit understanding with me. On those moonless nights, let me walk alone on the country road and wander around like a ghost.

Girls are the wish of the wind. Do you really want to fly? Don't miss the end of the long rain, the boy is holding an umbrella on the roadside and eagerly looking forward to your date?

Just a goodbye crossed out everything, hung up the phone, and suddenly the world was empty and there was nothing left. For a long time, I heard a broken voice in my heart, so light, so light, but it hurt me deeply.

What does heartache feel like? What does it feel like to be heartbroken? Dare not say! Can't say!

But I can tell you the sound of heartache and scratching-the sound of a tall glass kissing the ground.

Don't want you to see my pain, hide it, just smile. The lonely and secluded path in the cold night, the loneliness and helplessness in the cold wind, and the sadness in the midnight dream are all deeply hidden by me. Just to see you again, I still smile and have no worries; Just to add joy to your slightly sad mood.

I don't care if you understand, but I hope you can keep this season, this short season. Understand?

On windy days, English people dance briskly. ;

If you leave, I won't do anything to keep you. I will watch you go, watch you walk out of my life bit by bit, and let all the days break apart after you leave and flow into the river of missing. ...

It's hard and cold to stay alone for a day. But you won't go alone.

Another day with him, your world will be brilliant. A thousand years of Buddha's fate, a lifelong wish, let him accompany you through this life path. Leave him the right to give happiness and me the right to bless.

"Who sent the brocade book to the cloud? When the word goose returns, the west wing is full of moons. Flying thousands of miles, sending a page of letters, seeing words like a face. I will be in tears, I will be safe and sound, and I will pay for my years. "

The summer clouds are quiet, and the soft moonlight is quietly spilled all over the floor. Looking up at the moon, full of stars, very bright ... looking down, I saw my shadow floating in the moonlight ... that thin figure was pulled into a long line ... omitted and then omitted.

The wind is blowing, the weather is still cold and the water is still cold.

Unconsciously, the weather turned cold.

Walking on the road and taking a deep breath, I can only feel thousands of silver needles sticking straight into my chest, which makes people afraid to breathe.

Finally, on the weekend, I lay quietly in bed, listening to the cold wind outside, and my claws were scraping the glass, which made me feel another kind of chill.

With a creak, the door opened gently and closed again. I know, these days, my father took a big deal, and he got up early and had to catch up with his work.

Suddenly, I heard the creaking of the switch door again. Then, brisk footsteps sounded. This is obviously the mother's footsteps. Why are they all out? Leave me alone at home?

Curiosity prompted me to put on my clothes and look down at the window.

A tall figure appeared, a father, far away. Suddenly, my mother appeared in my sight, clutching two coats.

My father seemed to realize the existence of my mother, turned around and looked back. My mother stepped forward and handed me the clothes in her hand.

Father bowed his head, as if shy, raised the ground and raised his head. In my eyes, it seems to be a quiet and wide lake. Those eyes with a faint light, as if through the moonlight and lake light after 1000 years, softly landed on the mother's face.

I vaguely heard my father say: you are taking care of your beloved job alone, and you have to take care of your son's study. It's hard enough, you should take care!

Mother's face suddenly turned red, like a girl's shyness at first love. The wind passed through the clothes, blowing up mother's skirts, and her hair fluttered in the wind. My mother suddenly shuddered, and my father quickly put on her coat. The wind seems to be infected by this warm scene and is getting smaller and smaller.

A touch of morning glow appeared on the horizon, which seemed to be moved by this scene. I slipped between the leaves of osmanthus fragrans and accidentally landed on my mother's hair, which was dyed red. Father smiled, and a beautiful smile bloomed on his face.

I stood indoors and took a deep breath. Suddenly I feel my chest burning. I think maybe this scene is too warm and I can only share some with you.

I dressed quickly and went outside.

Although the wind is still blowing, the passion and warmth in my heart are burning in my heart.

On the day when the wind blew, composition 4 was full of wind and clouds, and it was already late autumn in an instant.

I wrapped my clothes tightly and walked on the narrow ridge. Looking around, the rice in the field has already turned into particles, leaving only the rice stalks lying quietly in place. In the wind, the aroma of crops is fresh and familiar.

Looking intently, there is a small figure shuttling in the field between the rice stalks in the distance. She quickly bent down, lifted several clusters of rice stalks, and then neatly pulled out one of them and tied it together. The straw at the bottom stood beside her thin body like the little Eiffel Tower. And she seems to be a tireless perpetual motion machine.

Finally, she straightened up and stopped staring at the land. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, clapped her hands and looked around. The moment she saw me, she was surprised, and then she smiled. The wrinkles around her eyes were like two blooming black flowers. She trotted all the way and approached, and the breeze came, wrapped in the smell of sunshine and sweat.

"Here we go again, there you are! Let's go, grandma will pick oranges for you. They are just ripe and fresh! "

She took my hand and came to the orange tree in front of the door. Dense branches and leaves hang down, green as a thick wall, mixed with orange amber.

She flashed into it, frowning, choosing left and right, hesitating, but the corners of her mouth clearly showed a warm arc, and the happiness in her eyes seemed to overflow.

The wind is blowing, and the branches and leaves are shaking and rustling. The faint sunshine came in through the cracks in the leaves and rubbed on grandma's relaxed face. Such a picture seems to have become a slow motion, carved into my mind frame by frame.

After a long time, she finally came out from under the tree, rubbed the oranges and wiped off the dust. Then carefully peel it off, break a petal into your mouth and savor it. Then he smiled and nodded, handed me the remaining oranges and said with satisfaction, "It's sweet, eat it!" " "

I took a sip. Facing her expectant eyes, she smiled and said, "It's really sweet!"

The wind is blowing, the clouds are surging, and the chill is a little less in late autumn. Who told her to be around, so warm!

The wind blew slowly along the coast, like a drunken poet, until, holding up my cup, I asked Mingyue, who was drinking the blue sea and sleeping in the square, gently telling his thoughts. One day more than 30 years ago, a loud cry broke the silence and a baby was born. The wind, gently blowing a happy smile, also blew away the life of family reunion. In order to better support the family, grandpa resolutely chose the lifestyle of gathering less and staying more.

Thirty-six lines, each line is a champion. With the solid mechanical knowledge he learned when he was young, my grandfather easily found a job of driving a pile boat in Shantou. During the day, he squatted alone in the computer room to take care of his own machine, and minor repairs and minor repairs are commonplace; At night, he sat on the deck, listening to the sound of the waves, staring into the distance, silently thinking about his wife and children. The days passed day by day.

The weather in summer is like a child's face. You change when you say it. Just now, the sea in Wan Li was calm and Wan Li was clear. In an instant, the dark clouds are sealed, and the raindrops as big as beans hit people's skin and hurt them. Although the sea is rough at this time, grandpa in the control room is particularly calm. I saw that he quickly checked the treadmill to make sure there was no problem. His feet walked to the steering wheel like a gust of wind, raised his right hand and turned around quickly. His body slowly turned right because of this rotation, and the glittering and translucent sweat on his arm rained down. The hull gradually stopped shaking and grandpa's body gradually turned positive. The deputy gave his grandfather a thumbs-up, and the workers beside him grunted. The wind outside the window is no longer cold, and grandpa's determined face is as dull as water.

During the construction of the Bay Bridge, Grandpa was fortunate to be one of the workers. He gets up early every day and takes a few deep breaths of salty air. He walked to the side of the ship and paid attention to the direction and speed of the current. If the construction can be carried out, he immediately asked the workers to prepare for the steel pipe pile operation. At this time, he seems to be a senior commander: wearing a helmet and holding a megaphone, seriously directing the workers to lay a plurality of steel pipes obliquely into a triangular three-dimensional geometric figure, firmly fixing them in deep water, and then pouring caps and piers on them. The dazzling sunshine was so wanton that Grandpa had to narrow his eyes into a crack, and the sea breeze gently brushed his dark and determined face. All the bitterness, in front of a huge project, seems so insignificant. Because he knows that after the project, he will have a short time to accompany his wife and children to enjoy the reunion. ...

The windy days have quietly gone, and the glory of the past has become a deep ditch and annoying old spot on grandpa's face. I want to freeze the time. I will always be that little girl, listening to your story in the fragrance of tea-windy day. ...

On windy days, the breeze gently touches the village and gently outlines the shadow of love. On a windy day, mom, you let me taste the sweetness of love.

It was a cold winter night. Outside the window, the cold wind bites the branches like wild animals, and the sound of branches being broken comes from time to time. Inside, my mother and I are having a big fight. The reason is that I insist that my mother buy me a piano to attend the school's New Year's party. But how can I earn a dime from my mother's weak body and a penny from the west? In the end, no matter what I say, my mother won't buy it for me.

At this time, I ran out in tears, running in the wind, tears blurred my vision. "Mom, daughter, you are not satisfied with this requirement. Does mom not love me at all? Yes, my mother doesn't love me. If she loves me, how can she have the heart to scold me and not meet my requirements! " I hate my mother silently in my heart.

I continued to run in the cold wind, tears trickled down, and I didn't stop running until I was tired. I just stood in the wind and let it attack my body and hair. Soon, I vaguely heard an anxious voice calling me, and I suddenly turned around. It's mom! Mother looked around anxiously, eager to see my figure; My mother tried her best to call, eager to hear my response. However, I turned and ran, regardless of where my mother's thin body could stand such a fierce roar. After a while, my mother found me. She called me louder and accelerated the pace of catching up with me. Not good! Just then, a stone fell to the ground, and the poor mother fell heavily to the ground. However, my mother desperately got up and ran to me, held me in her arms and cried, "Daughter, don't leave your mother, don't leave your mother, your mother can't live without you." Hearing this, a huge warm current came to my mind. At the same time, I hate myself, why am I so capricious; In fact, my mother loves me so much, but I say she doesn't love me.

The wind gently blew up my mother's pale hair and pierced my heart like a silver needle in the dim light. It turns out that my mother has lost her precious youth for me.

On windy days, I tasted warm maternal love.

On a windy day, dawn paints a picture of a village, shrouded in thin fog, as ethereal as a fairyland: blue tile roofs, doors with peeling paint, flowers and bones waiting to open on the windowsill. ...

Everything is still the same, quiet and peaceful.

I once again returned to this land, this village I know well, and the wind gently brushed my cheek.

I carried my bag along the country road and ran all the way home. "grandma!" I cried with joy. Ah, the little darling is back. Come on in. Grandma looked kind, quickly wiped her hands with an apron, trotted to me and held me in her arms. The wrinkles on her face are like a blooming chrysanthemum.

A strong fragrance came to the nose and crashed into the nose warmly. It was the gardenia tree in front of the door. Gardenia blooms, threatening. Everything seems to have the sweetness of flowers. Away from the hustle and bustle of the city, it seems to have a unique tranquility. The wind carried this fragrance far away. ...

I leaned against the wheat pile and watched people working in the fields. They leaned down and almost put their faces on the ground. Oh, that's because they are used to being so close to the land, and that's because they worship the land devoutly!

The field has faded away the glitz of autumn and the solemnity of winter. In this vibrant spring, besides pure green, it is pure green. The wind blows over the wheat seedlings like waves. No, this is clearly a green ocean. ...

It was quiet all around. Occasionally, several dogs bark in the distance.

On this windy day, there is no endless homework, no rush, just close your eyes slightly, let the pleasant wind pass over your cheeks, or look up at the blue sky and watch a few thin clouds pass by. Slowly empty your heart and blend into this peace!

The wind swept the fallen flowers in front of the courtyard, and the sunshine made the colors very uniform, and poured them on each petal shallowly, as if they were plated with a shallow layer of silver, glittering and translucent, with a soft light.

The village, far away from the hustle and bustle of the city, has been standing there, like my grandmother, holding on to that tranquility and serenity, expecting her children to return as soon as possible.

Even with the ebb and flow of the years, what remains unchanged is the tranquility and simplicity of the village. A pot of well water and a few mint leaves cook the warmth and sweetness of home.

On this windy day, I am thinking: how can I live better? Trees are here, people are here, I am here, and villages are here. Everything is fine.

On windy days, slow down, empty your heart and listen to nature. Oh, the years are so quiet!

On windy days, the breeze overflows the lake and ripples. How beautiful! On that windy day, you cast a curtain of dreams for me.

I walked quietly on the silent road, and my heart was full of bitterness from time to time. I heard some silvery laughter. I turned my head and a few smiling faces came into view. They are as beautiful as angels in the sunset. I was lost in thought: once upon a time, I was as naive and lively as them? Once upon a time, I became so depressed today. ...

As always, I walked alone on the campus path, and you walked behind me quietly, but I didn't know it. I didn't find you behind me until the corner of the teaching building. At this time, your bright smile jumped into my eyes, and I asked softly, "Have you been behind me?" You nod gently. Suddenly, my heart was full of warmth.

I still remember that day, I stood in the corridor as usual, staring at the dark mountain in the distance with dull eyes. Not far away, occasionally passing by a bird or two. At this moment, next to me, a man came softly, stamped his foot, motionless and speechless. I know, it's you again I turned to look at you. At this time, you look at the distance uncharacteristically, and there seems to be a little unknown sadness in your deep eyes. I patted you gently, and then you smiled at me, always trying to warm me up with your smile and let me find my old self.

Later, later, I learned the truth. That day, your mother was ill in hospital. You didn't want to make me worry or make me sad, so you didn't tell me, but you used a smile to cover up your sadness, and my heart became heavy.

The sky after the rain is clean and flawless; After the rain, the mountain looks like a mop. Your smiling face is flying in front of me. You said that as long as I am happy, you will be happy. You said, I will always be your most sincere friend. ...

In windy days, it is your company that warms me;

On windy days, it was your concern that touched me;

On a windy day, let our friendship bloom like a flower.

Except you, who is the shade under my sky?

-Bing Xin

The sky is gloomy, the streets are gray, and the weeds on the roadside are a little heavy. So is my mood.

The wind blew and slapped me in the face. Street lamps cast my shadow on the wall, long, because I am a tall man. But what's wrong with being tall? It is recognized that I am obviously the most emotional and devoted girl in my class. But just because I'm tall and fat, it's not "harmonious" to stand with my partner's boy? That's why I didn't have a chance. What is this?

The wind blew harder, and the plastic sheets covered by several small shops on the street were lifted up, and a few thin grasses were rolled up. My shoulder twitched, and I wiped my eyes reflexively, but there were no tears. Anger accumulated in my heart, but I could only bite my lower lip and run home with my head down, letting the wind mercilessly draw the feeling of pain on my face, just like the students looked surprised at that time.

The wind is getting stronger and stronger. However, without warning, rain drops as big as peas fell in the sky, and a thick rain curtain was pulled up to block the whistling of the wind. "When it rained, the wind stopped." Who said that? I walked into the house as calmly as possible. My mother is busy in the kitchen. She greeted me when she heard my footsteps. Maybe I'm too bad at hiding. More likely, my mother knows me too well. She gently saw the sadness in my heart through my red eyes. Mother stretched out her arms, grabbed me taller than her and asked softly, "What's the matter?" This is a question that a mother can express all kinds of emotions. My pent-up feelings broke out under his drag. After the storm, yes, I let tears drop on my mother's shoulder, because all strength is empty talk in front of my mother, because only he can accept your fragility when the wind blows, just like a rainstorm curtain can stop the whistling wind.

I believe that maternal love is like that, ordinary and great.

The wind outside the window has subsided, and the rain is still falling, as if there is no beginning or end, just like my mother's endless concern for me. Whether I accepted it or not, she was always ready to comfort me and encourage me. Just like now, she will gently say to me, "It's okay, it's okay."

You are always gentle with me, but I only miss your arms on windy days. "Thank you, Mom." I held my mother tightly, on the windy day, every day after that.

Composition on windy days 10 People who have been warm don't know the cold, and people who have been warm don't know how to cherish it. Frozen in the wind, bleak, indifferent to prosperity, but clear and gentle. -inscription

Pushing open the door squeezed by the wind, I suddenly felt cold from head to toe. The cold is raging all over the body, and the wind is cold. I quickly put on my scarf and gloves and ran downstairs. Dad has been waiting in the wind. I threw my schoolbag into the basket and jumped into the back seat of my bike. It seems to have become a habit. I traveled around on this bike and was caught in the rain and blown by the wind. ...

Suddenly I shivered, only to find the tingling of the wind on my face. Huddled together, I began to complain, complaining that the bike was uncomfortable and not warm, complaining that men and women rode too slowly. I angrily put my hand into my father's coat and put it on the warm sweater. But ... what's the matter, shaking? Yes, I clearly felt the slight shaking of my father's body. Looking up slowly, my father's neck cringed without a scarf, and his hands without gloves were red with cold but still clutching the car. Click, click, step hard. Heart, was pulled. I always take it for granted that I only understand my own cooling and ignore that the closest person is colder than myself.

I got off the bus and looked at my wandering father's bleak back in the wind, only to find that I was wrong. I always thought my father was strong, but I never cared that his chubby body was not as strong as before; I always thought my father was tall, but I didn't want his back to draw a painful arc. His back was blurred in the wind, so quiet that I didn't care for so many years. Yes, I am warm, I don't know his cold; Myself, I don't know how to cherish. Maybe it's time to thank this windy day, which made me feel taken for granted and became a natural treasure.

The sky outside the window is still cloudy, and it is a windy day. Open the window and let the biting wind cool your hands and feet, because I don't want to be numb anymore. It's time to blow more wind and let us know what warmth is.