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