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