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