秋天,总是那样令人伤感,昨日还洋溢着生命的绿叶,蓦地变得煞黄煞黄,极不情愿的将自己丑陋的身躯卷起,挂在那枝头,时而晃来晃去,时而“哗哗”作响。望着那树叶,我又想起了那天的事情,不觉陷入伤心之中……睡梦中,我被母亲叫醒,揉了揉有点酸涩的双眼,斜倚床头。昨晚没看完的那本《简爱》悄悄地滑下床沿,我弯腰拾起来,仔细的抚平褶皱放入抽屉。“都什么时候了,还不起床,成天就知道看这些没 Autumn, always so sad, yesterday also filled with the green leaves of life, suddenly become evil yellow yellow, reluctantly rolled up his ugly body, hanging in that branch, sometimes dangling, sometimes, sometimes ”Wow “ sound. Looking at the leaves, I remembered the day things do not feel caught in the sad ... ... sleep, I was awakened by his mother, rubbed a bit sour eyes, reclining the bed. Jane Eyre, who had not finished reading last night, slipped quietly down the edge of the bed and I bent over to pick it up and carefully fold the folds into the drawer. ”When are you, do not get up, know all day to see these no