Written in the long clear autumn

No matter in school or in society, everyone will inevitably come into contact with composition, which can bring our scattered thoughts together. Then the question comes, how to write an excellent composition? The following is my composition in the long autumn, hoping to help everyone.

Walking slowly in the long clear autumn, I have my own Qian Qian knot in my heart, but why can't I untie it? It's a long story. Shallow, small flowers can't help blooming. One night, even the last hope danced like dandelions at the end of the year. The lightness of flying is like escaping from a noisy dream, but it is always a luxury to be safe in your hand.

What slips from the fingertips is the lost time, hiding in the gap and waiting silently. I like to pass by quietly, pass by the changes of the four seasons, and see how the clouds in the sky bloom with lonely colors. Three years, how many days and nights, how many times to meet, how many times to wait, just buried it deeply in the bottom of my heart. Waiting for a warm spring day in bloom, waiting for a joy that comes out of the ground, may be an empty discovery. All those things are just a sentence that can't help falling into the dust of rivers and lakes. One can't help it, but the other is holding the thread and waiting quietly at this foot, standing like a tree, half peaceful and half lonely.

Night, quietly falling from the sky, willfully holding the trembling starry sky. Not all encounters have endings, just like, not all blooms can wait until the last and brightest time. Every solar term can always lead to a burst of sadness, to the bottom of my heart, those memories that slip by inadvertently or stories of accidental encounters. If the cloud knew, it might not fall into the gap of time like this, seize the thin time like this, and listen to the song repeatedly like that, not to mention leaving a little sadness. ...

How to cover up the inner drift, settle down in the depths of time and slowly watch the world grow old?

Inadvertently, I read a story, the story of Qingcheng. Suddenly, I really want to cry quietly, because of such a story, or because of the casual meeting in time, or because it seems that those operas may have been doomed. ...

"I heard that happiness is very simple, so simple that you can forget it in a hurry." I can't help crying, but I still believe that happiness is simple. If one day, accidentally lost, will wait quietly.

I don't know how fast I should walk, so that I can meet you accurately and let you take me back. I don't know how long it will take to meet. I have been gone for too long, until I have no courage to turn back and wait.

When summer flowers meet autumn leaves, or flying flowers fall in love with flowing water, I understand the loneliness of the stars in the middle of the night and wait too long until there is no expectation. In this early autumn, I was drunk for half my life, but I couldn't give you the answer you wanted, so I quietly turned around and didn't want to listen. The time is half-open, and the moonlight is dense.

Again, I want to leave quietly, but I'm afraid I can't give you the answer you want.