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