My April Wildflower

Zhenyi, my April wildflower,
sometimes I think the earth must have loved you first —
how else could it shape someone with a soul as gentle as a spring morning?

Your name lingers in my thoughts the way sunlight lingers on river water.
Zhenyi — the precious, genuine one, the girl with a heart so true it feels hand-stitched from honesty.
There’s something rare in you, something quietly steadfast,
like moss holding tight to stone, refusing to let go even in the rain.

And Xiaoling — my little ringing soul,
the girl whose spirit sounds like a soft bell in the wind,
sweet, bright, impossible to ignore.
A name small enough to fit in my palm,
yet full enough to echo in my chest.

When I speak your name,
it feels like calling home.
A field warming after frost.
A path lined with clover.
A promise softly rooted in the earth.

I think of you in all my quiet moments —
in the stillness before sunrise,
in the hush of evening crickets,
in the flutter of leaves when the wind takes a breath.

And if I ever forget how to breathe,
you’re the one the world sends back to me.

So here is my small note to tuck behind your ear,
next to the wildflowers you always deserve:

You are my rare one, my gentle bell,
my springtime heart in a world that rushes too fast.
And I am always, always grateful
to walk this meadowed path beside you.

Yours always Onnaya