looming, smoky,
in the left and right rows of realistic robots wearing maid costumes,
Can' t tell which is a flower and which is a butterfly
The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,
danced lightly,
into the stream,
As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,
like a paradise on earth,
like a mirage,
The grass that just sticks its head out,
The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,
There is a bridge over the creek,
The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,
The stream is microwaved,
He bent slightly, and at the same time whispered: Welcome,
crystal clear,
The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,
attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,
The flowers follow the breeze,
sometimes lift it up,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.
look around,
There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,
Like patches of green misty ocean,
The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,
Watching the outside world carefully,
Solanum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,
The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,
Pieces of green in different shades,
The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,
Bend it now and then,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
The mountains are rolling up and down,
As if singing the symphony of spring,