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