In life, work and study, everyone often comes into contact with compositions. Compositions can be divided into time-limited compositions and non-time-limited compositions according to different writing time limits. Still at a loss for composition? The following is a long composition that I compiled for everyone. You are welcome to read it. I hope you will like it. A long essay on what it feels like to be with you 1

In the stumbling journey of growing up, with you, your silent companionship makes me no longer lonely, making the long helpless night no longer long, what it feels like to be with you long! —Inscription

The flowers are fragrant because of the soil, the trees are strong because of the spring rain, but I, because of your selfless love, have transformed from an ignorant love lover into a sensible teenager.

Do you remember? When I was in kindergarten and after school, you could find me at a glance in the crowd. I would hold your hand tightly, hide under the umbrella, and laugh out loud, but you didn't know that the umbrella was always tilted.

Do you remember? On the day I went to elementary school, you sent me to school with countless instructions, but the little hand and the big hand were still unwilling to let go. I don’t remember how many times you told me, I don’t remember how many times you showed love...

I remember that it was a few weeks before the simulation started. When I entered the sixth grade, I was overwhelmed by the "homework mountain", and you would quarrel over my grades every time, and our relationship was in quarrel. Gradually becoming unfamiliar.

One night, I was sitting alone at my desk, carrying the heavy "mountain of homework" as usual. When I wasn't paying attention, I found that the moon was already bright outside the window and everyone was immersed in sleep. In the middle of the night, only the bright moonlight accompanied me helplessly. The cold light shone on my body, and I couldn't help but shudder.

The house is extremely quiet, so quiet that you can hear the clock working tirelessly. When I was about to continue working hard, you saw that the light in my room was still on, so you quietly pushed the door open and said to me: "Have you not finished your homework? Why are you still up so late?" Go to bed early!" I nodded indifferently and found that you had already closed the door, so I thought you would not come in. Unexpectedly, you held a cup of steaming milk that had just been brewed and said to me: "Drink it to warm yourself up."

I gently took the milk and drank it. . Suddenly, a warm current surged into my heart. Looking at your chiseled face, it seems that there are a few more wrinkles, and that full head of black hair is mixed with a few strands of silver hair. It seems that it was born just for me. My nose can't help but feel sore, and my eyes are red, as if I knocked over the five-flavor bottle, and unexpectedly you said to me: "Give me the parts that I need to memorize for science. Can I check some randomly?" I nodded, picked up the book, and asked you: "I memorized it wrong..." Will there be punishment? ”

“No, just read it a few times if you memorize it wrongly!” This sentence seemed to make me even more nervous. When I didn't know how to recite it, you would copy it down and explain it to me. You would write, draw, and rewrite it on the notebook until I fell asleep. I was studying this question in bed and told me how to do it. I understand deeply in my heart: because of your company, this dark night is no longer cold, but infinitely warm.

Because of you, my mother’s company, I achieved excellent results in the mock exam. I am grateful for your sincere teachings, which made me understand that I should not be arrogant or impetuous when doing things, because of your Accompanying me brought a happy ending to my childhood! Because having you by my side makes my life more enjoyable! Essay 2: It's a long time to be with you

The spring flowers fade and the autumn flowers turn into spring green. You picked up a branch of apricot blossoms from the Ming Dynasty in the deep alley, stood at the end of time, raised your bright eyes, and your silent eyes encouraged me to rush to each station on the road of life. Grandma, I enjoy being with you forever.

Moonlight night. Ancient Poems

The moon hangs in the sky, the town is backed by undulating peaks, and the edges of the mountains are floating with silvery white, which is where the moonlight is rippling. Grandma put on a white nightgown, pulled out two old lounge chairs, and called me softly in the courtyard. I ran to the courtyard with bare feet, sat on a deck chair, and listened to my grandma teach me to read poems. Grandma fanned the cattail leaf fan and taught me to read: Raise your head to look at the bright moon, lower your head to miss your hometown. I looked at her half-understanding and repeated each word. Grandma listened and smiled, her shallow wrinkles swaying like flowers, and there were waves of joy in her eyes.

Later, grandma told me the story of Chang'e flying to the moon, and told me that there was also a laurel tree in the moon.

I was stunned for a moment, and suddenly, there seemed to be a breath somewhere, curling behind me, reaching the tips of my hair, adding a faint itching feeling, as if we were already in the moon, with the clear laurel It's the one behind us. Insects chirped one after another all around, and pumpkin flowers bloomed quietly at night. My childhood was spent watching the moon and swaying the little fan gently.

When I encounter ancient poetry when I grow up, I always feel like meeting a close friend. It is something that my grandma planted in my life, and I have a long-lasting taste with poetry.

Hometown. Candy

As soon as I have a holiday, I want to go back to see you. At dusk in early summer, the air was filled with the scent of sweet water. A rain had just fallen. The winding bluestone slabs that stretched all the way up were covered with moss marks and were wet and slippery. The skinny big yellow dog squatted at the door of his house. Broken courtyard door, gray walls. My fingertips lightly touched the almost invisible graffiti from my childhood on the earthen wall. This scene brought an inexplicable vicissitude to a high-spirited young man like me.

I stepped lightly into the yard, and the familiar smell hit my face. In the center of the yard is the thick osmanthus tree, with sparse branches and sparse leaves. The osmanthus flower has not yet bloomed. Grandma may have heard the rustling sound when I walked. When she walked out of the room, she smiled when she saw me. Silver hair replaced black hair, and wrinkles covered my forehead. What remains unchanged is her ability to read all the world without saying a word, and her love and concern for me.

Every time I return to my hometown, my grandma always gives me a lot of candies. Maybe those candies are filled with my grandma’s love for me. They are wrapped in red and green candy wrappers, which are very rare on the market. They are not as good as those good-looking and delicious candies, but in my opinion, they are so sweet that my heart trembles. Every clear moonlit night, when you are in the country and I am in the city, we will always look in each other's direction and smile knowingly. Recalling the past, it was a long time to have you by my side.

Appreciate the flowers blooming and falling season after season, watch the clouds roll and relax again and again, every quiet moonlight night, I will enjoy your company for a long time! Essay 3: It's a long time to be with you

If the vine of time climbs the story of time, then that day must be a branch that turns back and forth thousands of times. Grandpa, I enjoy your company forever.

Time flies by like a fleeting moment, but I can never erase the mark that my grandfather left on me.

When I was a child, I lived with my grandparents. Their life was simple, simple but beautiful. In my impression, my grandpa didn't seem to be busy with farm work. Most of the time, my grandpa would use that old-fashioned bicycle to carry me through the streets and alleys. My grandpa would pedal slowly in front, wandering along the streets. I sat in the back, sometimes looking up at the sky and watching the clouds running, sometimes spreading my arms to imitate the flight of birds, sometimes putting my face on my grandpa’s back and mumbling to myself, and the bicycle also made a cheerful "squeaking" sound every time. Sitting on my grandpa's bicycle for the first time always feels like a kind of enjoyment. Sometimes I forget the time and let the sunset stretch our shadows so long.

I remember one time I begged my grandpa to buy me colored pens, and my grandpa drove me to the town.

Grandpa pedaled steadily as usual. I sat in the back seat, gently breathing the morning air, which was moist and had the fragrance of earth. I looked up at the sky, which was blue and blue. , the houses and trees in the distance are interspersed. I had never been to the town, so I slapped my grandpa on the back from time to time and asked him many things about the town: how far away it was, what kind of houses the people in the town lived in, where to buy colored pens... Grandpa all Answered patiently.

After finishing the questions, my grandpa pedaled while singing opera excerpts that I was familiar with. The first was "A Fairy's Match", in which he sang two roles. Then there was an excerpt from "The Consort" that he sang almost every day. The high and graceful tone is still in my mind and I can't get rid of it. When my grandpa sings to the place that I am most familiar with, I can't help but hum along softly, and my grandpa will be even happier, and the car will pedal faster, and the old-fashioned bicycle seems to be shaking its head and tail with us.

Sitting in the back seat of the car, looking at my grandpa’s tall back, I felt endless warmth in my heart. By the time I finished buying the colored pens, it was getting dark.

The breeze blew slowly, and the afterglow of the setting sun dyed most of the sky red. The splash-like red blush contrasted with the wisps of white clouds, adding a layer of warm color to the earth.

The lights of the houses on the roadside are brightly lit, and smoke rises from the houses in the distance. There are only my grandfather and me on the bicycle on the long path. The melody that my grandfather sings softly echoes in the sky, which stretches for a long time and is intoxicating...

Now, that old bicycle is placed in the corner of the basement along with the good times of my childhood. After dusting off the dust, I can vaguely see the past time.

Grandpa, it feels good to be with you. Because of you, my memories are no longer lonely, and my heart is always warm... It feels good to be with you. Essay 4

In the cold season of spring , the camellias were red all winter.

The wet and cold wind sang bitingly in my ears, and in the half-dark and half-asleep distant sky, green lights flashed. The wind mixed with the scent of camellias came into my breath, and the horizon within reach was lined with a golden stream of light. The gorgeous orange-red spread across the sky, dyeing the sky, and the camellias accompanied me for a long time.

The pale sky spread out from the branches at the corner, like an old quilt, depressing and soft, so monotonous that it made me more and more breathless.

Large camellia flowers are clustered on the branches, and they are dazzlingly red. I quickened my pace, and the red flowers bloomed happily, spreading their petals to the extreme. In the pale sky, camellias became a target. I was amazed by her beauty and intoxicated by her smile. Suddenly, with a casual glance, I finally discovered that behind this star-like beauty, there was actually such a flaw.

Pull aside the branches and leaves, and a few bright red petals are shaking precariously. The large patches of residual red on the low pittosporum under the camellia tree burned quietly, burning a touch of tenderness in his eyes. In the spring of March, so close, this flower may not bloom for long. There was another gust of damp and cold wind, and the double-petaled camellias danced lightly on the branches, and a wisp of fragrance lingered on the tip of the nose. This flower is very perseverant. It is about to fall, but it still blooms brilliantly. I shook my head helplessly. With a hint of melancholy of spring and autumn, I walked slowly like this.

The weather is getting warmer, and a few birds chirping startle the warm south wind. I always seem to be thinking about this camellia, that camellia with a bright smile. The longing grew secretly, and finally I stood in front of the camellia again. The bright sun shines a golden light on the top of the tree, the south wind picks up, and the camellia petals are fluttering like rain. My thoughts are interrupted by the rustling sound. Looking in front of me, I really answered the sentence "Do you know, do you know, it should be green, fat, red and thin?" The bright red is drying up bit by bit, and the new green is revealed inch by inch. She was so carefree and happy, waving to me without looking back. There was no lingering and desolate feeling at all. "Why did it fall so happily?"

The person on the side took off the large scarf and said with a smile: "Blooming and falling is the only way for all flowers. It will fall even if it doesn't want to. What's not fun?"

Really? I've been looking at this camellia for a long time, haven't I? Flowers bloom and fall, which is inevitable. She can't help it, so it's better to fall happily and freely. Falling flowers is also a kind of renewal. They become sparse and wither day by day, sinking peacefully into the soil and returning themselves to themselves. They need to recuperate, just as I need to forget all the clichés and find a new beginning. Even so, what's so sad about it. I, on the other hand, was once puzzled by the character of this camellia.

The camellias have completely withered, and spring has truly embraced this small town. Seeing her again, he smiled knowingly, and she responded sweetly. Greenery fills the eyes. Although there are no flowers, they are still endless and uniquely beautiful.

The flowers will bloom next year, they will always bloom.

Boundless and cloudless, the spring scenery is ten miles away, and the camellia is accompanied by it, giving it a different taste. Essay 5 about how it feels to be with you

Thank you for staying with me for three years. We have witnessed the bitterness and setbacks of growth together. But with you by my side, even tears are filled with happiness.

I can remember the first time I saw you without closing my eyes. I just entered school, and three years ago, facing the bustling crowd of strangers, I said, I like you very much, from the first moment I saw you. Maybe you, like us, have just experienced the separation of the last class. Sixty ninth-grade classmates were clamoring and hugging each other, but you could not see the one that belonged to you in the classmate books flying all over the sky. When we saw you, your once snow-white skin was already somewhat mutilated, and there were still the senior high school entrance exam countdowns on your back. It was you who carried us so innocently through the first day of school.

After school, the classmates who were not very familiar with each other were noisily packing their schoolbags, and then poured out of the door like a group of sardines, leaving you in the pale golden dusk and empty. Well, actually you are not feeling well either. You have to be alone in the dark and cold night until six o'clock tomorrow. From then on, I was always the last one to leave you, gently turning the new key and saying goodbye, leaving a long black shadow disappearing around the corner.

Later on, we gradually became familiar with each other. The school gave you new clothes, and we also used our own modest efforts to help you choose jewelry such as wall posters. You and we are quietly listening to the lessons we have been listening to since birth. I bet that if you take the high school entrance examination, you will definitely be the top scorer.

Many students live in communities very close to you, and can greet the morning glow and night with you. Every night, all the street lights will go out in an instant. At that time, will you occasionally be at a loss? What time is it, nine-thirty? Ten o'clock? Were you asleep at that time? You know what we call suffering. Sometimes it is really busy, because there are still faint lights flickering until eleven or twelve o'clock in the evening. In less than a year, we probably won’t be able to see each other again. You are actually very unhappy. No matter what kind of happy or numb posture others put you in, there should always be a little bit of red stuff flowing under the rough cement and steel bars. I can't see it, no one else can see it, and you shouldn't see it either. If you reveal your true heart, you will be hurt no matter what. You'd better stand still, I will miss you.

You know, although we talk and laugh on weekdays, and even complain unsatisfiedly about the lack of air conditioning, everyone in the classroom of Class 22 is very reluctant to leave you. The three years of junior high school with you were full of ups and downs. Essay 6 on how long it feels to be with you

The time flies by, the moon waxes and wanes, I lean down by the stream of time and pick up the bits and pieces of my company. Along the way, because of your company, the taste lasts forever.

——Inscription

Summer afternoon.

Pick up a wisp of fragrance and take a sip of fragrant tea. The lingering charm of tea gradually emerges, bits and pieces of the past. Leaning leisurely on the wicker chair, he reached out his hand and stroked it carefully, with a knowing smile on his lips.

Looking back at the past, spring, summer, autumn and winter, years passed by, I enjoyed your company for a long time.

Toddlers have company.

The blue sky is still blue, the white clouds are still soft, and the breeze is still gentle.

You are always there deep in my memory. You have been with me since I was a child. Remember when I was a kid, and I was just learning to walk? At that time, you held my young little hand with your warm hand.

We walked together through the lush green lawns; together we walked through the colorful gardens; together we walked through the fields with rolling wheat waves. No matter when, you always hold me with your hands and accompany me through my carefree childhood.

Fear and cowardice are companions.

The autumn wind blew away the fallen leaves, and a chill came over, ruffling the hair on the forehead.

Time flies by like a white horse, and in a blink of an eye, we step into the gate of youth. The new environment and new faces made me timid and helpless. I could not adapt to the new environment. At this moment, you took my hand again, encouraged me to enter this new school, and accompanied me to face setbacks and sufferings together.

Stay up late at night with me.

A full moon hangs high in the dark night sky, casting bright moonlight like a hazy veil.

The moonlight is like running water, slowly falling on the desk in front of the window. I am writing furiously in the audience, and the corners of my mouth are raised from time to time, even though there is a stack of thick test papers waiting for me to write. over. With a slight creak, the door opened. "Mom, why aren't you sleeping yet?" "I'll bring you a cup of hot milk." I raised my head and smiled at my mother. Mom walked away gently.

Because of your company, the taste lasts for a long time, and the love flows continuously...

Life is in a hurry, and without waiting for the moment, a trace of comfort is left behind, but I have long been unaware of it, and I am striding forward. forward. Now she has been with me for decades and has always been by my side.

Your love for me and your companionship are as pure and light as the fragrance of jasmine, guarding me and lingering in my heart. With you by my side, the taste lasts forever.

In the silence, I didn’t know how far I had walked. I raised my head, and suddenly I realized that you were still by my side...

It feels good to have you by my side.

Midsummer, afternoon. A wisp of tea smoke lingers through the light smoke gauze, accompanying it bit by bit. Picking up the accompanying fragrance, the corners of my mouth couldn't help but raise. Because of your company, the taste lasts forever... With you, the taste lasts forever Essay 7

In my more than ten years of growing up, I have met countless people, and they have accompanied me in my continuous growth and progress. , especially an old man.

I remember that time, I failed in an exam. I was afraid of my parents’ criticism, so I hid in an alley alone and didn’t dare to go home. Just when I was hungry, an old man selling hair cakes said to me in gentle words: "Young man, what's the matter with you? Why are you crying here alone? Are you feeling uncomfortable somewhere, or is something going wrong?" "As he spoke, he sat next to me and stroked my back with his right hand. This move made me feel so kind and gentle. So, I replied: "I, I didn't do well in the exam. I was afraid of being scolded when I went home." The old man said to me: "What's the big deal? People always make mistakes. We should actively find ourselves." If you make any mistakes, the result will be better." Then he said to me, "It's so late, you probably haven't eaten yet, take these pieces of cake to fill your stomach." He then left the remaining pieces. The steamed cakes were stuffed into my hands, and those warm steamed cakes warmed my heart.

The next day, I saw the old grandpa on the street again. He was still wearing a black coat, a white apron on the outside, pure black cloth trousers and a pair of black cloth shoes. His whole body was dressed so plainly. He took the initiative to greet me: "So it's you, young man, are you feeling better?" I quickly replied: "Yeah, I have reconciled with my parents."

Today is Friday, I Have enough free time to communicate. From our conversation, I learned that my grandfather lived alone. His son had passed away in a car accident five years ago. His wife passed away in extreme pain due to the accidental blow to her son. Now only her son is left. He lives alone...During our conversation, the old man couldn't help but shed tears. After hearing my grandfather's experience, I felt very sympathetic to him, and we became "friends throughout the year."

From then on, whenever I passed by his stall, he would always hand me a few pieces of puff pastry, and I would consciously put a few coins on his stall. We also exchange what we see and hear with each other every week. He patiently helps me solve my confusion in study and life, and I also tell him some interesting things. From elementary school to junior high school, there is no exception for a week. My life is more fulfilling because of this, and I also bring more joy to him.

No matter how depressed I feel, every time I see him, those negative emotions disappear.

Grandpa, it has been a joy to have you by my side as I grew up. Essay 8 about how it feels to be with you

When I was a child, I admired you; when I grew up, I got tired of you; when I became wise, I understood you...

——Inscription

There are not many memories left of my childhood, but from these fragmented memories, I pieced together an amazing you.

Whenever the sky is clear, I love to walk on the hillside behind my hometown. The hillside is full of your vegetable fields. I jump up and down on the stone steps for fear of being too young. I fell down, waving the hoe and looking at me with a smile. I like to lie on the big rocks and bask in the sun, and I also like to follow you and pull weeds. I don’t pull out the weeds seriously. I just pull out all the green grass. Sometimes I pull out the garlic seedlings, and you just say it lovingly. I said a few words and gently "hit" my hand. The sun is particularly dazzling, so you will put your big straw hat on my head. Whenever I bend down, it always slides down unconsciously. At night, I love to lie on the backpack, rocking back and forth, looking at the stars, and listening to you tell stories about your childhood. When I was young, I thought you were amazing. You could always turn small seeds into big, sweet pumpkins and sweet and sour tomatoes. I raised my face and asked you, and you smiled and said, "This is a secret." I pursed my lips, not convinced on the surface, but I still admired you secretly in my heart. You held me in your arms, I smelled your fragrance, and fell asleep with sweet dreams.

When I grew up, my mother took me to the county town. I thought I would never see you again, so I burst into tears and hugged you without letting go. After I got in the car, I saw you through the blur. Through the glass, I can still see you carrying a backpack on your rickety back, waving to me. However, within a few days, you came to see me. You said that you would always take care of me in the future, but there seemed to be a barrier between us. You thought I was just a child, but I had changed. If something went wrong, you would I would quarrel with you so much that I would often make you so angry that you wiped your tears alone. I lay on the crack of the door and saw a few clear tears falling from your cloudy eyes. I don’t know where my admiration for you when I was a child had gone. I don’t like your hands either. Although they can do a lot of things, I still hate them. Those hands are covered with calluses, the nails are long and not often trimmed. Those weather-beaten hands seem to be telling your youth, mine. My heart is sour.

I went to junior high school and understood a lot. I also learned about your past from my mother. You married out of the family when you were young and lived a life of serving others. After giving birth to two children, , your family often scolds you for not cooking on time. However, when I understand this, it is already too late. You are already preparing to go to your uncle's place. On the day we parted, I cried. I held you and told you not to leave, but you still got in the car. This time it was my turn to wave to you. I don’t know if you looked back at me, but suddenly a drop of water fell on me. On your face, are your tears blowing in the wind?

After you left, I missed you, missed your calloused hands; missed your hard-working yet rickety back... I cried bitterly.

Now, the academic pressure makes me call you occasionally, but I will not forget to greet you, because, with you, it tastes long... With you, it tastes long, essay 9

< p> Paint a stroke of spring flowers on the fan, and you will be with me for a long time.

Lay out the plain white cooked rice paper and press the heavy inkstone on the paper at the corner of the booth table. Remove the packaging of the Langhao pen and soak it in clean water. Pour in burnt ink, mix with water, and wipe the brush. Take a gentle breath, calm down, hold your breath; raise your hand and put pen to paper. The light ink slid across the paper, and the center's strokes were not as steady as Mount Tai. It was like a mountain falling apart and the ground cracking. It ended up being loose and without any structure.

Transparent affection spreads across the sky, smudged by the wind, and the smoke gathers and the clouds sway. Where I stare, there are several white magnolias and magnolias facing the east wind, soft and graceful, forming a unique leisurely feeling.

"The flowers are blooming so beautifully, but it's a pity that I can't even draw them. Do you know, it's so sad." A white magnolia flower drawn with a carbon pencil on thick rough sketch paper The eraser has erased the elegance of the details of the tree, leaving only the rough branches and leaves and a few upward flowers. The flowering period of the white magnolia is very short, and it has to say goodbye year after year without even seeing the ninety-year spring. The pen in my hand rolled down to the table, and the crisp sound of the bamboo pole woke me up from my dream.

Ink and wash emotions, meticulous freehand brushwork. This seems to have been with me throughout my childhood. The teacher picked up and put down the pen, and the skillful switching between center and side forwards was hearty and hearty; if it was fine brushwork, my eyes would be sore and my neck would be sore when I sat down until my whole body was numb and stained and my fingers cramped. The teacher could sit upright for a whole day and perhaps only completed half of the line drawing. In my free time, I would also talk about the misty rain in Jiangnan, which is like an ink painting. I listened to it and everyone was sleepy. After all, for every child who loves to play, this kind of feeling is uncomfortable, torturing the childish heart that is ready to move, until the hands and feet are gone. It itch again.

New evening makeup in neon clothes, beautiful and graceful in spring.

The white magnolia not far away is very classical and poetic, but I cannot describe it, and I always feel guilty in my heart. The red clouds are faint, and the clear dew is the fragrance. She blooms gracefully and calmly, Not surprised by favor or disgrace, so pure that even the leaves on the side are superfluous. The shadow falls on the empty steps, the early moon is cold, and the evening breeze in the Xiangsheng Courtyard is gentle. The fragrance of the flowers seems to be soaked in the glistening snow, and the petals seem to be carved from jade. They are dressed in silk and covered with frost, and the jade carvings are exquisite. Each of these flowers can enhance the mood, an elegant and quiet mood. The loneliness of standing with this thought makes the years under the age a little calmer. Pick up the pen, hold your breath, and concentrate.

On the plain paper, a white magnolia has taken shape. Light ink cannot capture her charm. After all my thinking, there was nothing I could do. I never thought about the flower falling, I just looked forward to it, just looked forward to it.

Ink painting has been accompanying me for many years, from boring to staring at you, from carefree to having a panoramic view of everything. No one can taste the taste and joy in it. The drums sound in the evening and the bells sound in the morning. The sun moves and the clouds move. With you by your side, the taste lasts forever. The night is waning, but I am not tired of thinking.

The beauty of time in the paper and ink turns into the thin rain in the south of the Yangtze River, holding an oil-paper umbrella and walking through the flowers and trees deep in the heart. The river is wide and the clouds are low, and the sky and the high ground are very different. There are traces of you dyeing all the way.

The ink is pure and joyful, and it will last a long time with you by your side.