Pieces of green in different shades,
The stream is microwaved,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
The flowers follow the breeze,
Standing in the left and right rows of realistic robots wearing maid costumes,
danced lightly,
The mountains are rolling up and down,
rter of an hour,
attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,
Solanum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,
The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,
into the stream,
like a mirage,
The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,
Watching the outside world carefully,
As if singing the symphony of spring,
The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,
He bent slightly, and at the same time whispered: Welcome,
The grass that just sticks its head out,
looming, smoky,
There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,
like a paradise on earth,
There is a bridge over the creek,
The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,
Like patches of green misty ocean,
Can' t tell which is a flower and which i
look around,
Bend it now and then,
crystal clear,
The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,
sometimes lift it up,
As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,
The entrance of the saloon on the 1st floor.
The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,