An essay on the topic of Childhood is a five flavor bottle .

First of all, I will only give you a general idea, because after all, copying composition is a bad behavior.

Because the title says "Five Flavor Bottles", you can start with "Five Flavors".

The beginning is a little poetic, expressing feelings around childhood.

Write a story under each heading, and your inner feelings must be the same as this one.

And then the last ending, I once wrote a similar ending: My childhood has passed, life this chef with his exquisite cooking skills poured the seasoning in the five-flavor bottle, stir-fried, flavored, although the taste of everyone's childhood is different, but I know that everyone's childhood is the warmest taste in memory.

Finally, pay attention to the beginning and end echo, and you're good to go.

Once, childhood was one of my favorite flavors, unlike the refreshing spring breeze blowing from the top of a towering mountain; Nor is it a soothing rouge scent. It's like the inseparable close friend holding my hand and strolling through every unforgettable morning.

I have read Lu Xun's "Morning Flowers and Sunset", and I thoroughly felt Mr. Lu Xun's strong emotions for childhood - nostalgia, from that book, I understood the preciousness and irreplaceability of childhood. Childhood, like that morning full of delicate flowers of infinite beauty, symbolizes the most immature heart of our childhood; When one day we grow up forever, we suddenly think of the withered flowers, pick them up one by one, delicately taste, miss, and consider the childhood that will never return.

What exactly is the taste of childhood?

In front of me was an endless white snowfield, the wind and snowflakes danced lightly in the air, I desperately chased after the scattered white fragments, my feet slipped and fell to the ground, I couldn't help but have a sour nose, crystal clear tears slowly slid down my cheeks, sour, salty taste.

With a bottle full of potions hanging high on my head, covered with a thick white quilt, and my whole body was like a fire drilled into it, I was tormented, and when I swallowed a pill with all my might, suddenly, the bitter taste melted in my mouth unconsciously, ah, so bitter, so bitter, is this bitter?

I still vividly remember the scene when I caught butterflies with my friends in the garden, the butterfly fairies of different colors kept flashing their wings, and occasionally there were flowers, and they would land on it safely, not to mention the grass and snakes, that is, they quietly hesitated past, and the butterflies also danced; I don't know if any of my companions have a bad idea: butterflies like incense, so why don't we attract them with perfume? At the sound of an order, the partners collected all the perfumes and entered the combat state; We went back and forth, and the butterflies were not attracted, and I fell for it—the perfume mischievously burrowed into my eyes, and I covered my eyes in pain—and a cool, spicy sensation arose.

Walking to the McDonald's dessert station, my saliva once again couldn't help but flow, the fantasy color of the ice cream hooked my palate, and I was fascinated by the sweetness.

Sweet and sour, maybe that's what childhood tastes like.