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