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