Net Red 04(2/7)

There is a bridge over the creek,

; small fish swaying gracefully,

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

Watching the outside world carefully,

Can't tell which is a flower and which is a butterfly

The flowers follow the breeze,

Bend it now and then,

sometimes lift it up,

The grass that just sticks its head out,

The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,

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As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

danced lightly,

The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

into the stream,

The shimmering light of fireflies &