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