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