Looking back at the snow

My snow is just a white snow, but it is the snow in Paris. The snow has already been tied up in my heart. I like snow. It’s only cold and ruthless. I don’t care about the world. It’s snow, no worries. On a morning, I saw the shiny white of snow, and I knew that there was my dream. I can always imagine that I am the patron saint of snow, the name is Paris Snow, because it is a tender, elegant place. Snow, what a beautiful word, always makes people fantasize about the continuous scenery of heavy snow. I was dressed in clothes without rushing, and rushed downstairs to date with the snow. I gently picked up a large number and sprinkled it on the ground. I like to be a lone ranger. Although I don't have a companion like snow, the snow can disappear, evaporate, and drift into a strange world. Snow, in some people's hearts, is only a natural sky in someone's eyes, but you are wrong, it has given yourself and brought us a beautiful world. I like you, snow, Paris snow!

Fifth grade: Paris snow