Recalling my primary school life composition

Recalling my primary school life composition

Poems and compositions recalling six years of primary school life
What poetry do I want?

The road is the trace of the moon
Vaguely, I haven't set foot on this path full of moonlight for several years. The path is paved with cobblestones by my father himself, and there is a dim and soft light under the moon. At the other end of the road, there is the cottage by the river, and my father. Father, are you still sitting on the bank, whining and waiting for my son's return? My father likes to play flute. When I was a child, I was very happy, My father's flute filled my childhood fun, like the ribbon like river, leading my childlike innocence wandering in the harbor of my father's love. My father loves my only son very much. He always likes to pinch my face with rough hands, even though I cry with pain, he still laughs foolishly, My father took me to the grass by the river to herd cattle. My father often let the cattle eat grass by themselves. Then he took out the flute from the grass basket behind him, puffed up his cheeks, and played the most beautiful music in the world. I leaned on my father's leg, watched the sunset in the sky, and dyed my father's hair a little bit golden. I loved my father, and his flute was the most beautiful. As I grew older, I began to hate my father, I hate that he is full of smoke and his yellow teeth. I hate that he carries a straw basket to school to look for me and stares at me from the window. I also hate that he has no ability but to wait on a few acres of land, and even my tuition can not be earned back. My father and I gradually separated. After I yelled at him several times, my father no longer went to school barefoot to see me and nagged me to study hard, The only way to break the silence is to play the flute, like resentment, like admiration. In my opinion, this has become a sign of not doing business. I went to school in other places. The night before I left, I walked on the familiar path and felt a trace of nostalgia. The road was like the mark of moonlight on the ground, and it also crossed my heart. In a few years, I didn't go home once. My mother told me on the phone, After I left, my father lost his soul all day. He just went to the river to play flute. At last, I came home at my mother's request. It was night at home, and the moon had just risen. When I was walking on the path with endless thoughts, I met my father waiting for me. Suddenly, I cried and hugged my father tightly. I asked my father to play flute for me, My father agreed. The choking flute sounded in my ear again, ringing on the path full of moonlight, which recalled my memory. I felt my father's love for my son, and felt ashamed to my father's flute. My father loved me and loved his son. He played the flute for me for 18 years, and now I found that it resonated with my heart so strongly. The road was beautiful, beautiful, The moon is the soul of the road, and my father's flute is my soul（

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