Net Red 02(2/7)

There is a bridge over the creek,

Bend it now and then,

The grass that just sticks its head out,

Watching the outside world carefully,

Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,

sometimes lift it up,

As if singing the symphony of spring,

nbsp; is clear and pleasant,

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

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

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