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