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