A family affection essay on the theme of melting! 800 High School Narrative 100

Memories that never melt.

The memory in my heart is always poetic flowers, painting and contemplating. The scenery of the past in life will inevitably retain the green shade of the season. When the slender hands touch the clear veins of the leaves, it is a staggered vein.

The dark tranquility sometimes can't hide the hustle and bustle of the heart. There is always a long stream of memories extended, and the memories of floating clouds roaming grow, and sometimes it is not for anyone to stay. Because time does not weatherize memory, it exists.

The memory in my heart is that I plucked the strings with my bare hands to pluck the overture. And now the moonlight is just like the past, in the vague dream, immediately turned into the last wisp of green smoke, before returning, I am willing to collect the dew of the rhombus for you, the stamen of the flowers, add ten thousand fragrances, and rise with a flute. When you stop and listen, you have all the smiles.

Because time does not weatherize memory, it can be flashed.

Many times, I sit in the silent light, sometimes with a loneliness that goes deep into the bone marrow. Memories are often a cup of cold coffee, a yellowed book, and a silent night. Memories are like lemons, a shallow layer of goose yellow, and a misty vinegar gaze blinds a person's eyes.

Sleepless get up, take a small sip, in such a night, it is easy to think of some people and things. Because time does not weatherize memory, it can ferment.

A light displacement, revealing the warmth of pink. Time seems to stand still, drifting out of flawless sadness. Beat the sound of heaven.

Or maybe the sky is blue, the air is colorful, and the earth is quiet. Memory, like a cool wind sliding across the face, has a trace of quiet jubilation in the heart, and the hidden longing is in the deepest part. Summer diary, hiding under an umbrella and shining.

You can also find an excuse to let memories lock up the romance of the braided knot, and act arbitrarily. And himself, who has been singing "Pink Memories", is elegantly intoxicated. Because time does not weatherize memory, it can be touched.

Listening to the sound of smoke and rain, the Qionglou Water Platform Pavilion still exists. "Passing through the time and space of thousands of years of waiting, the memory passes through the wind, the charm of storage, the pure feelings, and the heart is stirred, the waves are repeated, shuttling in the long river of life, soaked in the old years. In the flowing dust, caress the beating of the pulse and the breath of the heart.

The sparse moss will also be mottled by itself, and the lotus flowers in the pool will also bloom lonely, and some of them will be sparse and obliquely illuminated. Because time does not weatherize memory, it is dull.

In fact, everyone's memory is damp, and in a person's life, the memory of one by one will sometimes break their hearts into pieces. In real life, if you always look at everything with a perfect eye and expect everything to be comedic, then desire and reality cannot cross a long distance. Taste the sourness and indifference to wrap yourself, and then vent your loneliness and loneliness.

In the dead of night, when the memory is turned over again, the arc between the lips renders the face in the dream, wets the ethereal smoke waves, and dims the smoke and rain, but after all, it can't wash away the desolation and blankness. Therefore, the accumulated memory should be calm and indifferent, so that it will not be weathered by the changes of time, so that it can be natural.

Is it snowing in your place, are you afraid of loneliness? Do you want to listen to my thoughtful words, do you want me to leave you a snowflake ......"Whenever I hear this song, I immediately think of a beautiful picture of winter snow: the fluttering snowflakes falling lazily, the roof, the ground, the distant mountains, and the near green, are all dotted with this white elf, and the snow is bright all around, reflecting infinite light.

However, put the snow in your hand, and in a short time, the snow dissolves into water, from solid to liquid, from containment to loss ......

Yes, the snow is melting, and its melting is like the passage of time and the change of people, fast and helpless.

I love nostalgia. Although I know that this sounds very hypocritical, especially now that I am only a twelve or thirteen-year-old junior high school student, and I am still exhausted by the distraction of reading and exams, I still have the heart to sigh for that kind of gratuitous sentimentality or a few sensational words. However, now that things are not people, and all the past has become a lost beauty, although it seemed trivial in the past, it feels incomparably more intimate than the emptiness of today's day.

The years are like water, in a hurry, how many years, to put it mildly......"I was immersed in the hustle and bustle of yesterday, but I didn't know that today's time was quietly passing by at my fingertips, and the sudden awakening made me understand that time is gone.

Just like time, snow is beautiful, and the melting of snow is also beautiful, and only when snow melts will there be a vigorous spring. Only by forgetting the past and facing the present can we have a better future, not waste our youth indefinitely, and create a hopeful tomorrow.

Is it snowing in your place, are you afraid of loneliness? Do you want to listen to my thoughtful words, do you want me to leave you a snowflake ......"It's still this song, although the snow is melting, but it's a different mood, a different feeling......

You're sorry to copy someone else's. Write it yourself... It's actually quite simple.

Things are all **life. Melt... It's not just the snow that melts. The heart can also use this adjective