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