Essay on homesickness with mental activity to have an author writer, not student 15

This is my hometown.

It's where I grew up and I love it.

It loves me too. If I lose it, leave it.

I'm just a person with an incomplete soul.

So I've always loved it.

But this day.

I broke that promise.

I left it.

This gave birth to my hometown mother.

I had tears in my eyes.

Step by step into the distance.

Goodbye, my mother, my hometown mother.

But. My heart is still with you.

I still miss you.

I look forward to the day when I fall into your arms.

I love you, my hometown.

I love you affectionately, my hometown mother.

Outside the window was a gentle drizzle; Tonight, the wind beat on my window lattice again, and my homesick heart swelled like a soaked seed, unprovoked. After wandering for many days, the dream vaguely climbed the winding path in the village.

Who is that, playing that homesick song on a flute on a moonlit night, and the melancholy tune inadvertently fills the wasteland of my heart; Who is reading the ancient poem of homesickness every night, and the sad peace drips with the boundless and quiet nostalgia. I once thought that I was used to living an 8-to-5 life in this strange city, and in the days of frustration like flowing water, the mountains and rivers of my hometown have gradually drifted away. Suddenly looking back, I found that the dust was fragrant in my heart, and I realized that I was a flying kite, no matter where I was, the rope of my soul would always be tied to the plane tree in front of my hometown.

A rain has wet all my memories, and homesickness is like a garden full of leeks; long cut; Cut and long. Everything in my hometown flashes in my memory. In my lonely mind, my thoughts swim like a fish.

Once indulged in the frustration of life, but the mountains and rivers, the simple people, the eternal and unchanging attitude of the hometown, in the poetry is translated and diluted into a wordless song, a rhymeless poem, and my soul has long been freed, through thousands of mountains and rivers, returned to the hometown, and is tasting the pure rice wine with the honest villagers.

When I can no longer see the flock of geese flying south in the air, when the leaves on the plane tree are yellow and green, my unchanging nostalgia is playing so leisurely, just like the distant flute sound of my hometown, which is endless; is also like Li Houzhu's "away from hatred is just like grass, go farther and live".

The New Year is coming, and the migrant workers everywhere are helplessly looking at the heavy snow outside the window, and tears are slowly flowing, but these hot tears full of homesickness cannot melt the cold and ruthless ice and snow! The road in front of the train was covered with wind and snow, and the last hope of the migrant workers was shattered with the stop of the train motor. They stared blankly at the distant sky, and the smiles of their families appeared in the blue sky, and the smiles seemed to be touched by stretching out their hands, but an invisible "wind and snow fence" was erected in the middle!

At this time, a warm palm patted the migrant worker's.