Describe me lying on my father s back

One day I got sick and my father came to the hospital, and it seemed that the school picked me up and took me to the hospital, and he carried me to the hospital. In a daze, I felt my father's back warm and steady.

When your father is killed, you can say that you are afraid of relying on your father like a kitten on the back of the neighborhood, and your father is like a very tall tree.

The description of the father's back is as follows:I felt very uncomfortable, my father, who had been suffering for us, would have divorced my lazy and surprisingly unscrupulous mother if it hadn't been for us. Poor father, tired in body and tormented in heart.

Thinking of this, I suddenly feared that my father would never return. I cautiously asked my father to go to **, but my father smiled and said to me, go to work. I could hear the feeling of my heart breaking because of my father's sad smile.

The rain was falling quietly, my father for this family, for me, Meiwen Meiwen, he left, before leaving, he said a lot to me, my heart became very heavy, looking at his thin and warm back, with the sound of the car's horn, gradually disappeared in the hazy drizzle, my tears and rain intertwined!

But the scene of that day is engraved in my mind, my father did not hold an umbrella, he just walked in the late autumn rain with his fertilizer cloth bag on his back, there was no one on the street, only the yellow leaves that were beaten down by the rain fell faintly, and a leaf fell on his luggage, he was not conscious, I don't know what my father was thinking at this time, or he was not thinking about anything. I wanted to run over and hold an umbrella for my father, but I didn't, I hid under the eaves of my house, let the tears wet my face, blurred my vision, and my father walked away alone in the late autumn drizzle.

In ordinary learning, work, and life, we often see the figure of composition, with the help of which we can improve our language organization skills. Do you always write essays without rent? The following is the back of my father's in the clan bureau - describing my father's for you.

Memory is like a white windmill, pure and beautiful, when the wind comes, it spins rapidly, and in the circle of elegant arcs, that back will never fade.

Inscription. The glow of the setting sun threads the needle and thread in the bushes, covering the world with layers of golden threads. The clouds fluttered, the birds vibrated in the sky, and a lively child, with a smile on his face, was holding a swing in one hand and greeting his father with the other.

That was when I was a kid.

My father led me on the swing, which went up and down, up and down, swinging and ......swinging

It was getting late, and some stars were twinkling overhead, and my father pretended to leave, and I panicked, spread my legs, and ran towards him, my father's back, soaked in the night, sometimes dotted with stars, without the slightest decadence. In the dark night, his tough figure was reflected, a wisp of stubborn hair was cocked, like a teenager, the back gradually drifted away, only waved at me in a chic manner, at that time I only had to follow his back, there was an indescribable steadfastness.

Tonight, my studies are no longer as easy as they used to be, and my father's work is getting busier and busier, and we may not be able to talk to each other until the weekend. I also heard from my mother that he planned to work in the kitchen on the weekend.

The scorching sun has long gone, the cold moon hangs on the branches, and the gray-blue stratus clouds make this unfathomable blue sky more sorrowful, but it can't hide the stars. My father was busy in the kitchen, and I watched his back quietly at the door. At some point, the years climbed up his temples, his back was a little rickety, his clothes were soaked with sweat, the furrows under his eyelids told him of his tiredness, and his lips were a little chapped, but still smiling.

The heart, moistened at that moment, was a drop of dew in the stamens, unconsciously drowning in happiness.

The back accompanied me from the ignorant child to the jasper years, with that back, there will be a home fireworks, I can't imagine what the back will look like in the future, but it will always be in the time with a bouquet of flowers, because no matter what, the back will be my ...... that will never fade