Help me write a composition.

There are always two kind words in my heart: hometown. Beautiful and exquisite, they will always belong to my hometown in my memory. My childhood hometown is full of my laughter and my unforgettable childhood.

The beauty of my hometown lies not only in its exquisiteness, but also in the fact that it is full of my childhood laughter and familiar and enthusiastic faces.

My hometown in my memory is sentimental. When I was a child, every time I went back to my hometown, I always saw the dense tree-lined path from a distance. On a foggy morning, my father rode a car and drove me back and forth on the path. I reached out and brushed my hand gently across the treetops. The cold fog wetted my fingertips and I took a deep breath. The faint earthy smell of my hometown mixed with wet water vapor got into my throat and cooled my heart. The osmanthus tree behind the house is always faint and fragrant. After August, it will bloom with a golden smile and quietly send intoxicating fragrance to thousands of families, so the whole hometown is infatuated and dreamy. ...

The hometown in my memory is kind. Every time I go back to my hometown, a smiling face blooms at you. Rhubarb dog in front of my neighbor's house always walks on the path not far from my hometown with his tail up and his head held high. Grandparents at home have stood on the stone steps and smiled. At this time, I can't help but have an impulse to go home, which spreads all over my body warmly ... I play marbles with my big brothers and sisters, and they always give way to me, so my pockets are full every time I go home.

My hometown in my memory is a water town. The river in front of and behind the house always flows quietly. The water plants on both sides of the house swayed gently with the breeze, and the afternoon before night became lively. Laughter and laughter are also rippling along the river. The dirt road in front of the door is always muddy and can't be used for a long time. When I opened the door in the morning, the fog suddenly poured into the house, and the whole hometown became a faint ink painting, so hazy that I could even melt my heart together. When the sun slowly clears the fog, a layer of water drops falls on the leaves, which is another hometown like water.

My hometown in my memory always fascinates me. Ten years passed quickly, and occasionally I rode back to my hometown in my spare time, but I couldn't find the tree-lined road, only to see a section of roots standing helpless and lonely; I can't smell osmanthus fragrance, only the dust all over the sky; People in the past have already gone to the empty old house, and the red word "demolition" stung me. There was only one figure left on the stone steps, without a smiling face, looking blankly into the distance ... Only then did I find that my hometown had left me. ...

Ah, that familiar place! I stood on the land of my hometown, sad and lost. My hometown, beautiful hometown, is only treasured in my memory. ...

Hometown, my eternal dream.

One day, I read a sentence from writer Mo Huaiwei, "The sunset in the sea of clouds is erratic and gentle, and the sunset in the United States will set in the blink of an eye. Only the sunset in my hometown can touch people's hearts most." Yes! Only the sunset in my hometown can touch people's hearts most! In order to study, I embarked on the road of leaving home, but the memory of my hometown did not fade with time, but became clearer and clearer.

As a poem says, "The song of hometown is a flute in Qingyuan, which always rings with the moon at night". Being in a foreign country, whenever I look up at the bright moon, I will think of my hometown. My hometown is in the southwest plain of Shandong, where there are always seemingly endless wheat fields. In the early morning, a chicken crow echoed in my small village; In the evening, the smoke curled up and enveloped it in infinite tenderness. The memory of my hometown is like a dam. Just open a small mouth and it will burst. Now, when I stand outside my hometown and my childhood, I still find myself floating in this familiar and unfamiliar land.

Even if time is a killer, in addition to the knowledge sealed in the mind, it will never take away the memory of hometown. I still remember the river at the entrance of the village, winding and carrying my thoughts of my loved ones; I still remember the crooked neck tree planted by my father, which had colorful childhood dreams; I still remember the well at the east end of the village, and the dark wellhead was loaded with my uneasiness. Time can make the green leaves wither, can make the face aging, can make the sea change, but can't weather my infinite memories of my hometown.

Hometown, my eternal dream. If I were a rootless orchid and a flying autumn canopy, the memory of my hometown would be my strength to return to the earth. Time will turn water into steam, but it can't stop steam from condensing into water and returning to the earth. When the raindrop proudly said to the earth, "I am your child who has been exiled and recalled thousands of times." Time can only sigh, because in the face of the memory of hometown, it is powerless. Time will not dilute people's memory of their hometown, otherwise, how can there be a melancholy whisper of "how many people will come back to the river in spring"? Otherwise, how can there be a delusion of "I don't know where to blow willow and look forward to my hometown all night"? Otherwise, how can there be the expectation that "Jiang Nanan is spring and green, and I will return to the moon to shine"? Otherwise, how can there be the melancholy of "looking back at my hometown, the road is long and its Xiu Yuan is Xi"?

Birds love the old forest, while pond fish miss their hometown. With the growth of age, the memory of hometown will become clearer and clearer.

Humayu depends on the north wind, and the fox dies first. A branch and a leaf always care about their feelings, and their feelings deeply recall their hometown. Our hometown carries our dreams. Even if the tree rises, the leaves will fall to the roots: even if time passes, the memory of my hometown will never be weathered, never.