Write a little poem about your childhood that no one else has read

Childhood (poetry).

Under the warm sun.

The cuckoo was chirping and laughing.

Topol's hands were also swaying in the wind.

Childish singing.

Swim in the running water.

The joyful years flowed like this.

In a green birch forest.

There's the murmur of worms.

White dandelions exude beautiful flower caps.

Companions for a reunion.

Run in the wind.

The intoxicating time jumps like this.

By the babbling creek.

There is the frolic of fish.

Oily aquatic plants swing in soft lines.

Loud screams.

Troubles that cut through the sky.

The joy of childhood just silently walked away.

High-quality answers. Childhood (poetry).

Under the warm sun.

The cuckoo was chirping and laughing.

Topol's hands were also swaying in the wind.

Childish singing.

Swim in the running water.

The joyful years flowed like this.

In a green birch forest.

There's the murmur of worms.

White dandelions exude beautiful flower caps.

Companions for a reunion.

Run in the wind.

The intoxicating time jumps like this.

By the babbling creek.

There is the frolic of fish.

Oily aquatic plants swing in soft lines.

Loud screams.

Troubles that cut through the sky.

The joy of childhood just silently walked away.

Childhood. Childhood, is a fresh song.

I use my tender hands.

Compose the days into a string of notes.

Jump between your fingers.

Childhood, is a pure blue painting.

I look at it with clear eyes.

Paint the years into a pure blue river.

Flowing in the heart.

In childhood, I picked it up in the rice fields.

That bunch of ears of rice.

In the long river of time.

Glows with golden light.

When time puts the color of melancholy.

Paint the time and space I have walked.

When living with strong hands.

Fill my heart with hardship.

Childhood, it was empty in my silent heart.

Singing in a low voice, cheering.

In the river of time, pearls are deposited.

I'm in the silence of the night.

String it together with great care.

Glittering necklace.

Brighten my whole mind and body.

Summary. Hello, a little poem from my childhood.

Childhood" under the sunset, innocent laughter on the greenery;

In the snowflake dance, the pure and flawless hand-holding in the carnival;

When the osmanthus is playing, the chase is simply held in the dust fragrance, and the stream is fluttering, and the clear and transparent laughter is floating.

The years evaporate gently like water, and childhood quietly precipitates like gold.

In the depths of the world, childhood glows with light and beckons from afar.

A little poem from my childhood.

Hello, the children's filial piety poem "Childhood" written by myself is reflected in the sunset, and the innocent laughter on the greenery; Snowflakes dance in the draft, pure and flawless hand-holding in the carnival; When the osmanthus is playing, the chase is simply held in the dust fragrance, and the stream is fluttering, and the clear and transparent laughter is floating. The years evaporate gently like water, and childhood quietly precipitates like gold. In the depths of the world, childhood glows with light, and the mountains call from afar.

Hello group leader, do you have any other questions, if there is one, you can continue to ask, if my banquet can help you, you can give a few likes and attention, and I wish you a happy life!

Change to a simpler one.

"Memories of Childhood" still recalls the time when the children were in full bloom, and they knew the poems in front of the window. Chasing butterflies on the way from school, and thinking about dragonflies in hand. The egg-digging tree is filial piety and the birds are frightened, and the fishing in the stream is also late. The childlike innocence is not in the true feelings, who unravels the flat head and sideburns and dyes the silk and is clever and early.

Are these original or?

Written by my child.

Terrible. Thank you.

The yellow earth of my hometown has left the footprints of my childhood, where my grandfather, grandmother and my favorite bamboo forests, melon sheds, rice fields, snow ......How ridiculous I was when I was a child.

As soon as spring arrives, I will be like a little sedan chair bird returning to the forest, plunging into the bamboo forest, I often carry my small bamboo basket, step on the green lawn, and start a day of roaming.

A small flower, a mushroom, all ran into the small bamboo basket, tired of playing, then lay on the natural "carpet" to sleep, but when I woke up, already in my grandmother's arms, I always asked my grandmother what was going on, but my grandmother didn't tell me.

Looking forward to it, summer is finally coming, I always stare at the melons in the field, and in the evening, I must be the first to eat watermelons.

After eating the watermelon, my grandfather picked up the watermelon that I hadn't eaten and mouthed, and my grandfather deliberately asked me, "Who is the most greedy in our family?" I said with certainty, "It's Grandpa!" "Because I saw my grandfather nibbling on watermelon rind."

As soon as I heard this, my grandfather laughed...Tsai Dan wanton....Autumn is coming quietly and silently, and the gentle autumn wind brings the joy of harvest.

Winter came, after the heavy snowfall, I had a snowball fight with my friends, at this time my grandfather would always help me soft snowballs, but my friends also found "rescuers" but still lost.

Childhood is like a cloud, and after a while, it drifts away to the blue sky.

I really want to go back to my free and easy childhood.

Childhood (poetry).

Under the warm sun.

The cuckoo was chirping and laughing.

Topol's hands were also swaying in the wind.

Childish singing.

Swim in the running water.

The joyful years flowed like this.

In a green birch forest.

There's the murmur of worms.

White dandelions exude beautiful flower caps.

Companions for a reunion.

Run in the wind.

The intoxicating time jumps like this.

By the babbling creek.

There is the frolic of fish.

Oily aquatic plants swing in soft lines.

Loud screams.

Troubles that cut through the sky.

The joy of childhood just silently walked away.

Childhood, is a fresh song.

I use my tender hands.

Compose the days into a string of notes.

Jump between your fingers.

Childhood, is a pure blue painting.

I look at it with clear eyes.

Paint the years into a pure blue river.

Flowing in the heart.

In childhood, I picked it up in the rice fields.

That bunch of ears of rice.

In the long river of time.

Glows with golden light.

When time puts the color of melancholy.

Paint the time and space I have walked.

When living with strong hands.

Fill my heart with hardship.

Childhood, it was empty in my silent heart.

Singing in a low voice, cheering.

In the river of time, pearls are deposited.

I'm in the silence of the night.

String it together with great care.

Glittering necklace.

Brighten my whole mind and body.

1, "Children's Fishing" Tang Hu Lingneng.

The unkempt child learns to hang Lun, and sits on the side of the berry moss.

Passers-by beckoned by asking Yao, and they were so frightened that they were shocked.

2, "Village House" Don Gao Ding.

The grass grows and the warbler flies in the February sky, and the willows are drunk with spring smoke.

The children returned early from school and were busy releasing paper kites in the east wind.

3, "Chishang" Tang Bai Juyi.

The little baby propped up the dinghy and secretly picked the white lotus.

I don't understand the hidden traces, and the duckweed opens together.

4, "Qing Pingle" Song Xin abandoned the disease.

The thatched eaves are low, and the grass is green on the stream.

Wu Yin is good in drunk, who is white-haired?

The eldest child hoes the beans in the east of Xidong, and the middle child is weaving chicken coops.

The favorite child is dead, and the stream head lies on the lotus bed.

5, "What I See" Qing Yuan Mei.

The shepherd boy rode the ox, and the song vibrated the forest.

Intending to catch the cicada, he suddenly closed his mouth.

I vaguely remember the hazy memories of my childhood, singing and laughing in the morning glow, chasing and playing in the twilight clouds, always wanting to pick the moon on the treetops, always wanting to treasure the stars in the sky, how strange and strange my childhood thoughts were.

They are all so innocent and naughty, they are all so innocent and naughty, they all have their own little secrets, and they all have their own hearts.

As the years go by, people grow up, and the old friends go their own ways for their livelihoods, and walk in the vast sea of people.

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Tong (poetry).

Warm sunshine. Cuckoo sounds.

Crying out and laughing. Poplar hand.

Shake with the wind. Childish singing.

Flowing water wanders. Happy years.

Flowing green. The birch forest is infested with insects.

Murmuring in vain. Dandelions exude beauty.

Flower hats gather partner wind.

Run, drunk, light, jump.

Murmuring streamside. Fish frolicking.

Oil, oil, water, weeds, pendulum.

With feminine lines.

A loud scream pierced the air.

Annoyed Tong happily silently walked away from Tong.

The child's head is fresh. I compose the song with my immature hands.

String notes. Finger jumps.

Child-width pure blue. Draw me with clear.

Eyes painted over the years.

Pure Blue River. Between the flow of children's rice fields.

Clusters of rice ears between the river hair.

Sorrow in the golden light.

Color smear and I'll go.

Empty with tough. Hands are hard to fill my Tian Tong.

I'm silent. Singing in a low voice.

Cheer over the river of light.

Sediment grains of pearls, I am silent.

Wear a string of glitter at night.

The necklace brightens my whole body.

Childhood is a party

Glowing dreams. In my dreams I dreamed of du

I sat on the white zhi

on the clouds. Take me on a tour of the dao

Vast skies.

I dreamed of seeing clear dew wash away the owner's troubles.

Childhood is a blank sheet of paper.

It is possible to draw our simplest and clumsy yearnings.

It is possible to write about our carefree freedom.

You can write about the beauty of this world.

Childhood is one of the most beautiful songs.

Because you can sing the most authentic voice in your heart.

Let childhood stay in the brightest place in your heart!

In June, the lotus leaves are half a pond, and the flowers are red and green.

The child only watched the dragonfly falling, but did not smell the fragrance here.

I just wrote it, do you see if it's useful?

In June, the lotus leaves fill half of the pond, and the lotus flowers bloom slightly in the clear water, and the scenery is pleasant. A child stares at a dragonfly flying among the flowers, not knowing whether the lotus flowers in full bloom are fragrant or not.