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