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