Missing theme composition

In the usual study, work and life, everyone has written a composition, which is a narrative way that people express the relevant knowledge, experience and thoughts stored in memory in written form. So how to write a general composition? The following are eight short articles about missing topics that I have compiled for you. Welcome to read the collection.

Missing topic composition 1 Caring is an indelible trace of missing and sadness. Concern, like a misty town, is light or thick. People are imminent and lingering.

A deep homesickness, let the scissors of time cut away the bits and pieces of time. Let the wind and sand of the homeland repeatedly touch the reef of memory. Make your eyes hesitate and stagger. Will arouse full meditation at night. So every time I start writing, there is a long sigh and wordless silence. He wandered around, unable to say what he wanted to say or send it, so he had to bury the meaning of wandering in his heart.

Caring is a kind of melancholy, but it is a silent blessing. Flowers bloom and fall, and the full moon is absent, which will inadvertently cause deep melancholy. If you think about it for a long time, it seems true and false to dream back to the past countryside, and the dream is illusory. At this time, there is a long-lost yearning, and suddenly looking back, it is no longer in the ebb and flow season.

Care is the comfort of the soul. Young and fluctuating hearts may be ready to move, and fragile hearts may be broken. In the boundless dust, there are still many pairs of eyes watching you, caring for you and hanging for you. The feeling of being cared for is sweet, and the burden on the soul is lightened. Tomorrow, you will be greeted by a smiling sunrise.

Caring is a complex emotion, and it is the blending of people's hearts; Concern is a special emotion that needs no words. In the long world of mortals, we care about each other, either close at hand or far away.

Missing topic composition 2 In colorful life, missing is the most beautiful color; Among the five flavors of life, missing is the most fragrant one.

What is missing in my heart is a kind of pain and happiness; Being missed has both sadness and sweetness. Missing is a street lamp. People who are not missed and have nothing to miss are often easily lost.

Missing is a kind of lingering, caring, spiritual maintenance and emotional interweaving.

Missing is a string of sincere wishes jingling in my heart, and a colorful auspicious cloud haunts my dream.

Missing is a note accompanying us to grow up, which is full of every step we have taken and every footprint we have stepped on. "the thread in the hands of a loving mother makes clothes for wayward children" is the yearning for the family; "When * * * is cutting candles at the west window, but talking about the rain in the evening" is the miss of love; "Sleeping at night and listening to the wind and rain, the dream of iron horse glacier" is the yearning for the homeland and the yearning for galloping the battlefield; "Thirty fame, the dust settles, eight thousand miles of clouds and the moon" is the hero's yearning for rivers and mountains and the call for ideals!

Miss is wine, let each other sing * * * to melt their hearts into a deep cellar for brewing; Missing is a silk thread that connects two hearts far apart.

In the cold winter night, missing gives us warmth; In the days of frustration, missing gives us comfort. In the rain, missing is a persistent umbrella; In my dream, I think you are a boat.

With more and more thoughts day by day, our emotions are getting richer and our thoughts are getting mature!

Missing makes our hearts care, and missing makes our hearts depend on each other. In the shallow, deep, short and long thoughts, our ordinary life is so warm and vivid.

A wild goose chirps and shakes the autumn sky. It's late autumn, and lonely geese are afraid to leave the group. It flew by in a hurry and threw me into a dream with only autumn. The old lady lived in this dream.

I don't know who entered whose dream.

In my dream, the old lady was very quiet. She always likes to sit in front of the door and read some autumn leaves and newspapers. She watched and fell asleep again.

Autumn in that old lady's house is quiet and beautiful. A quiet old lady likes quiet children, so I don't talk much when she reads the newspaper. So in that Qiu Meng, in the bright morning day after day, there are always two recliners, one large and one small, a Yangtze Evening News that has hardly been turned over, an old lady sleeping on her side, and a child fondling autumn leaves. One by one, the same picture is interpreted again and again by two silent protagonists, but it seems not enough. Time is silent only when you hear the voice of geese.

The autumn at that old lady's house is also a joke. The old lady fell asleep reading the newspaper, and I began to be a "porter of nature" because I firmly believe that "turning into spring mud will protect flowers better" I always like to stuff fallen leaves into tree holes and make "stomach-invigorating and digestion-promoting tablets" for trees. That's not enough. I occasionally put fallen leaves in the old lady's hair to dress her up. The old lady was awakened by the cry of the wild goose and found that her head was covered with fallen leaves. She would hold my waist with both hands and shout "Little grandson" to let me take the fallen leaves. And I took the opportunity to catch her hair into a bird's nest and the two of them frolicked. Under the crisp autumn sky, another one flew in formation, and the neat word "one" fell with jagged geese.

Autumn in that old lady's house is intoxicating. The old lady likes to eat lotus roots. Almost every afternoon, she makes a dish of sweet and sour lotus root, and we always grab the last lotus root. I can't get tired of playing this game. The old lady said, "Add some wine to the sweet and sour lotus root, and take the villain on a tour after eating." Yes, the lotus root of the old lady's house will intoxicate me and bring me into a world full of rosy clouds. In that world, the old lady took my hand and walked on the horizon dyed red by the sunset. The last battle line in late autumn was overhead, and the neat word "human" shattered the jagged geese.

This is really like that! This dream is really good, I think. Why not, I think.

Suddenly I dreamt, and the battle line broke up, leaving only a lone goose. I am still a child on the earth, but time is no longer, I am alone.

It has been many years since she left the old lady, and now she has entered the disturbing dream of this world with a wild goose. Is she driving away the geese flying south and sticking to my dream, or am I too greedy for the autumn of the old lady's house? Fly out in a dream. Is the lonely goose my or the old lady's sustenance? It's neither. It turns out that the old lady is a lonely goose who has no time, and I am a lonely goose who refuses to fly out of the old lady's house.

Just a wild goose, and then forgot to come back.

I love the green leaves in spring, the overlapping green leaves in summer, the drizzle in autumn and the snowflakes in winter, but I love the fallen leaves in autumn more.

In autumn, whenever I see a yellow leaf falling from the tree, I think of my mother. Her figure is floating in my mind, irregular and will not stop. I think this is my mother's wandering figure. At this time, I am also desperately focusing on my floating mother.

People say that "fallen leaves return to their roots", but my understanding of this sentence is dubious. Seeing that the yellow leaves on the tree really fell to the roots, my beloved "floating leaves" have not come back yet. She is always drifting in the vast sea of people, and she doesn't know when she can "find her roots".

When I saw the fallen leaves of the big tree falling, covering the young trees below, supplying warmth and nutrients to the young trees, I thought of the care that the "floating leaves" had given me.

I remember when I was very young, I was sick once because my family was poor and there was no nutritious food, just some rice. My mother was afraid that my body couldn't stand it, so she covered the box with a thermos, put some rice in the kettle, and cooked it into gray rice for me to eat alone. She looked at me and felt a little smile at her mouth. She gently rubbed my head with her own head and asked me, "Son, is this meal delicious?" Is there enough to eat? If it's not enough, mom will cook it for you. "I just, um ... well, I didn't pay attention to her expression at this moment, but don't think too much. My mother must have been very happy at that time.

As the saying goes, "beating is pain, scolding is love." But at that time, I was too naive to know what love was and what love was. As long as my mother beats me and scolds me, I will call her ignorant or run away from the public.

I remember that time she hit me, so I scolded him. Then I went on a business trip, but I couldn't stay at my grandfather's house for a day, so she went to my grandfather's house to pick me up. On the way, she was afraid that I couldn't walk, so she hugged my back and walked home step by step. Looking back now, how sweet and happy that feeling is! It's just that all this is too short, too short.

Now I am an eighth-grade student, and I have fully understood what "beating is pain and scolding is love", but now I have no one to beat, scold, do my homework and ask. I feel more and more sad now than before. I really want to go back to the days when my mother forced me to do my homework with a stick. Her nagging often rings in my ears.

It is true that water can flow westward, but no one can stop time to go back. If time can go back, I really want to go back to the happy and warm days of my mother's "stick teaching method", gently lean my head in her arms and say to her, "Mom, I love you."

There are leaves floating in my heart! When will you come back to me?

When winter comes as scheduled, the bright sunshine shyly refuses to return. Do you still remember the full moon on the misty mountains and rivers in the morning, which is intoxicating?

"I am worried about the bright moon and will go to Yelangxi with the wind." I remember that there was a red moon in my hometown, the same moonlight, the same worries, the same people and different places. At that time, I naively thought that God envied the beauty of the world, so I hung the red moon in the vast expanse.

Every Sunday afternoon, students come home one after another, and the campus suddenly becomes so empty. Only we are left, wandering, confused and longing. We have never been so quiet, a beam of sunshine refused to shed, refused to pity, refused to give alms.

I want to have a good sleep, because I'm too tired, too tired. I reach out to touch something, touch the past, and recall scenes. Because I am homesick and want a little comfort and warmth.

When the sun shines on my face, it seems like a warm current rushes to my heart. What a long time of warmth and enlightenment. I long for more sunshine, just like a cracked wheat field meets rain. My nose is sour, and I don't want to cry, but my body is out of control of my mind.

Sobbing silently, afraid to speak loudly, I don't know what I am afraid of, and I don't know why I am crying. I can't say I cried, but I cried. Perhaps it is loneliness and hesitation. I haven't heard my father's serious voice for too long. I haven't heard the sweet and delicious dishes cooked by my mother for too long. I haven't felt grandma's hands full of vicissitudes for too long. I haven't heard my brother call me brother sweetly for too long. One person, another person, day after day. The pressure overwhelmed me, and time destroyed my body.

The smell of home is so precious that it is hard to find. I really want to end it as soon as possible and think about whether it is worthy of my parents. I should work hard and not waste my time. Even though I am riddled with holes, I want to live a good life.

Missing topic composition 6 Missing can be said to be as uncomfortable as a cold and unable to breathe; This kind of discomfort is like crying in your heart but having to endure it. Missing is a necessary feeling for everyone. Miss, everyone will miss someone. But sometimes I miss you loudly, otherwise I will regret it in my heart after the past. I missed many people, but few people can miss them again. I am missing, in the distant horizon; At the end of the stream; Thinking of someone at one end of the cloud.

That man is very kind to me. He is impeccable. I can guarantee that that person treated me better than my parents, but that person is gone. I really miss her sometimes. She left and went to the other side of the sky. I don't know what it's like over there, but I'm sure she must have a good life, even though I don't exist. In this way, she can also put aside her life's hard work and enjoy life without me, although she once said that taking care of me is her greatest pleasure in life. I don't remember what I looked like when she left. I only remember that I was robbed of my soul, and I don't know if it hurts.

The second person I missed, in the corner of a stranger's eye, I saw his familiar face at the moment when the raindrops fell. Although he can't give me the whole world, he gave me his whole world. His concern for me is really unparalleled, but it happened that it made me dependent on him. However, when I couldn't live without him, he also left and went to a corner of the beautiful land. I began to fear that others would leave me. And he must be very happy. He should go to her. Two people's lives must be very happy. With him gone, I dare not rely on others anymore. Dependence is addictive, and I can't quit. Before leaving, he told me that I must be happy. I didn't expect things to be different in a few days. I am happy, I must be happy, even if I am not happy for myself.

When two people can play and laugh together, they don't think this friendship is valuable.

However, when two people are isolated for various reasons, there is such a yearning. I have had such an experience. MengMeng, the daughter of my mother's friend Uncle Li, is one year younger than me and is my good friend. I used to write to each other and send small things because I didn't have time. Mom and Uncle Li are our "postmen". On weekends, I often go to her house to play, and her family likes me very much. Uncle Li is very funny, and MengMeng has inherited many advantages from him. Her grandparents are excellent cooks, so eating at her house has a unique flavor! Her mother is a clever and quiet woman. She is a good mother. MengMeng is witty, smart, funny and lovely, with excellent grades and conscious order. Who doesn't like it? It was that trip to Shaoxing that cut me off from her. On that day, MengMeng, his mother, grandparents and Uncle Li went to Shaoxing to play together. I, MengMeng and Uncle Li have a car, and my mother and grandparents have a car. On the way, MengMeng and I painted and played cards ... How happy we were! Mom's car is in the front and we are in the back. An hour later, we arrived in Shaoxing. Our hotel is an ancient water town. Now, we can go boating Uncle Li said that they would leave this afternoon. What a pity! Haha, here is the key! "Wow, it's so big!" "Villa, is also two layers! What a big bed! " How interesting! MengMeng and I are having a pillow fight on the second floor, and my mother and Uncle Li are quarreling below! They quarreled more and more fiercely, and we all froze!

Later, Uncle Li dragged MengMeng away angrily … From then on, we can only chat online instead of laughing happily … However, we can play together again next week, so I look forward to it!

Missing the topic composition 8 Pack your bags and embark on another journey. Wandering life is chasing the beam of light in the distance, which represents hope and is dotted with the light of success. A person in a foreign land, without a close person to accompany him, feels trapped in a lonely cage, struggling, but more and more bound, invisibly, with an extra shackle-missing.

In the past, confiding with family members and intimacy with lovers have now become a kind of memory, a luxury of longing, so far away, obviously close at hand, but out of reach. A faint sadness hovers in my chest, lingering and brewing for a long time. At this time, I realized the helplessness of Li Taibai's "Until, raise my cup, I asked the bright moon to bring me my shadow and let the three of us". Maybe I should find a greenhouse, have a drink and enjoy the bright moon.

When I was dumbfounded, I suddenly remembered the difference today. I sighed helplessly, and the smog in my heart became thicker. It happened on August 15, but I was a little disappointed and sad when I was outside alone. I wanted to sing poetry like the ancients, but I had no literary talent. I fantasize about the laughter of my family in my mind, but my heart is bitter, faint and unforgettable. I picked up my coat and walked out of the dormitory. The cold wind poured in from the neckline, and my heart contracted violently in an instant, as if I had been stabbed severely.

The breath of autumn is more and more restless, and it is more and more difficult to hide. The street is not as crowded as usual, but a little more deserted in silence. As soon as my hand slipped, I took out my mobile phone from my pocket, my fingers slid back and forth on the screen, my eyes wandered on the long contact list, and I felt a lot in my heart. Gently, after the busy tone of "DuDu", the long-lost voice finally came out, just like a mountain flower, infiltrating my heart. It's been two months since I left home, but I haven't contacted my family once. This is not only to miss less, but also to be cared more, which may give me a different kind of satisfaction. Maybe I'm selfish, and I feel guilty. Mother's slightly old voice came from the other end of the phone. Years not only took away her beautiful face, but also made her vocal cords rough. I choked and sighed, and then there was an abyss of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a greeting, which poured out like a river, flapping my already fragile heart and tears fell disappointingly. During the nearly one-hour conversation, I was almost overwhelmed by my mother's concern. I only paid a dozen "alas" and "good". At the other end of the phone, my mother choked back her sobs, but I could deeply feel that tears were swirling in her eyes and shed a few drops from time to time. After the phone call, I cried like rain. I regret my silence when I speak and my simplicity to my mother. Actually, I really want to say it out loud. But I held back my words and my heart fell silent again.

Missing is like a kind of pain, deeply rooted in the bottom of my heart, like thorns, entangled and bound, crushing missing, but accumulating more and more.