Zhenyi, my April-born wildflower,
you came into my life the way spring slips into the countryside —
quietly at first, soft as morning dew on clover,
and then all at once, everything began to bloom.

You, with your green-loving heart,
the gentle shade of moss after rain,
introverted like a forest path that only reveals its secrets
to those patient enough to walk it slowly.

You think too much — I know.
You pick at your food,
you unravel the world in your mind until it frays at the edges.
But darling, that careful mind of yours
is the same one that notices every breathing thing,
the same one that loves so deeply it aches,
the same one that forgives even when it shouldn’t —
even when it’s me.

Your compassion is the kind that grows roots.
It wraps itself around the earth, the people, the animals,
anything that moves, anything that shivers,
anything that needs warmth.
And somehow, it wrapped itself around me too.

I love your stubbornness—
the way you stand firm,
soft but unshakeable,
like a young oak refusing to bend in the wind.
You speak your truth with quiet strength,
and oh, how I admire that.

And your laugh…
gods, Zhenyi, your laugh.
It bubbles up like a little brook over stones,
pure, bright, unexpectedly playful.
It makes the whole meadow brighter.

When I look at you,
I see our future the way we dream it:
a cottage tucked in the countryside,
river humming nearby,
sunflowers nodding in the yard,
chickens scratching in the grass,
herbs drying under the porch,
and you —
always you —
watering the vegetables while I pretend not to stare.

Your eyes, brown like fertile soil,
turn to honey when the sun touches them.
Your height makes me look up,
as if you aren’t already the sun I orbit.
Your warmth is a campfire in winter.
Your wild hair is the loveliest kind of chaos,
matching the sweet, strange, wonderful person you are.

I love how smart you are,
how empathetic,
how you feel things deeply but still keep going.
Your perseverance is a quiet miracle.

I notice everything you do —
your moods, your cravings,
the way your hands move when you talk,
the way your eyes brighten when you’re excited.
The way you hold my hand when I ask,
as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.
The way you’d give me your umbrella, your warmth,
your time, your patience.
The way you listen even when I ramble nonsense.

You see me,
truly see me —
and I see you too.
All of you.
Without judgment.
Just love.

Zhenyi, you live in my mind like a permanent season.
I wake up with you.
I fall asleep with you.
You’re here, always —
in the quiet corners of my thoughts,
in the wildflower fields of my heart,
in every small dream I carry.

I love you.
For everything you are.
For everything you’re becoming.
For everything we could grow together.

Onnaya