Spring, a hesitant touch, like the first unfurling of a fern.  Sunlight, a pale gold wash over new green shoots, mirroring the shy blossoming of our affection.  Stolen glances, quick as the darting of hummingbirds, a shared laugh, light as the breeze whispering through willow branches.  The air thick with the promise of something more, a burgeoning warmth that melts the last frost of doubt.  We walk hand in hand, the earth beneath our feet soft and yielding, a reflection of our hearts opening to each other.  The scent of hyacinth and damp earth, a heady perfume that intoxicates the senses, a prelude to the vibrant summer to come.

Summer, a blaze of color, a riot of sensation.  Days long and languid, stretching out like sun-drenched meadows.  Our love, a sunflower turning its face to the light, bold and unapologetic.  Passionate embraces, as fierce as a summer storm, leaving us breathless and renewed.  We swim in lakes, cool and dark, our bodies slick with water, mirroring the depths of our feelings.  The taste of ripe berries, sweet and ****, lingers on our tongues, a reminder of the sweetness we’ve found in each other.  Fireflies ignite the twilight, tiny sparks of light mirroring the fire that burns between us.

Autumn, a tapestry of russet and gold, a time of mellow reflection.  Our love, a vintage wine, rich and complex, aged to perfection.  Long walks through forests ablaze with color, leaves crunching beneath our feet like whispered secrets.  We gather close, drawn together by the chill in the air, finding warmth in each other’s arms.  The scent of woodsmoke and cinnamon, a comforting aroma that fills our home, a sanctuary built for two.  Our conversations deepen, like the lengthening shadows of late afternoon, exploring the hidden corners of our souls.  We are grateful for the harvest of our love, the bounty of shared experiences.

Winter, a blanket of white, a time of quiet intimacy.  Our love, a flickering candle in a darkened room, a beacon of warmth and light.  Snow falls softly outside, muffling the world, creating a cocoon of peace around us.  We curl up by the fire, wrapped in blankets, sharing stories and dreams.  Hot chocolate, rich and creamy, warms our hands and our hearts.  The silence is filled with unspoken words, a language of love that transcends all others.  Our bond, like the evergreen trees, remains strong and steadfast, enduring the harshest of winters.

And as the seasons turn again, as spring’s first blush returns, I long to walk this path with you once more.  Each bud, each bloom, each ray of sunshine, each falling leaf, each snowflake, a reminder of the beauty we’ve created together.  I want to relive every moment, every touch, every word, every season of our love, again and again, forever.

The tenderness of youth often blinds us to the true nature of love.  We chase the flame, relishing the passion, mistaking infatuation for something deeper.  Yearning for connection, we grasp at fleeting moments of enchantment, cherishing the illusion of a love that will last forever.  But first love, more often than not, is a training ground, a place where we learn the language of the heart, even if the words are sometimes mispronounced.  It leaves its mark, a scar both visible and internal, a reminder of the intensity of those early emotions.  We carry these experiences with us, shaping our understanding of what love can be.

Later in life, the landscape of the heart is different.  Scars are visible, stories etched into the lines around our eyes.  The flame of youth may burn a little less brightly, but in its place, a deeper warmth emerges.  We have learned to distinguish between infatuation and true connection, to recognize the difference between fleeting passion and enduring tenderness.  The yearning remains, but it is tempered by experience, a knowing that love is not just a feeling, but a choice.

And then, unexpectedly, it happens.  A connection sparks, a resonance that transcends the years.  It may not be the first love of youthful memory, but it carries a different kind of magic.  It is a love seasoned by life, enriched by shared experiences, and grounded in mutual understanding.  There is a cherishing that comes with knowing the fragility of time, a relish for the present moment, and a passion that burns with a steady, unwavering flame.

This love, found later in life, is a testament to the enduring power of the human heart.  It is a first true love, a love that encompasses all the lessons learned, all the scars endured, and all the yearnings finally fulfilled.  It is a love that whispers, "You are home," a love that promises, "This is forever."  It is a love that proves that first love can happen at any age, and that true love is always worth waiting for.

Just meant as an educational post.
In Asian cultures,  family names are first, then given names.
In western culture, this is the opposite.
English names can follow the pronunciation of the Chinese name.
A woman with the name Ping, may adopt Apple ad her name as ping guo is Apple in Chinese.

When written in calligraphy,  Kanji, or Korean,  it is always written this way.  When using pinyin (romanized) characters it can be written with a space or more formalized with an apostrophe between the surname and given.  So for those who truly would like to know.   You can call me Cal.

The Oneness
is complete
when the Yin
and Yang meet

in harmony:
no dissonance
no rough edges
the undertone is sweet

beyond words
doubt, arguments
only the consonance
beyond dispute

Yin and Yang
Yang and Yin
the match perfect
where two hearts greet

Across the vast expanse of sky and sea,
Two lives unfold, connected by a thread,
Invisible, yet strong in whispered words,
A bond that stretches through both time and place.

A woman in the West, her heart still tied
To distant lands where tales of old reside,
She finds herself in bustling streets unknown,
Yet senses with each step, a pulse within.

A man, with roots in soil of foreign kin,
Bears witness to the world through different eyes.
He walks beneath the weight of history,
Yet feels an echo calling from afar.

In dreams, their paths entwine beneath the stars,
A glimpse of hands held tight, of laughter shared.
While miles and years conspire to divide,
The thread, though fine, resists the pull of fate.

Each letter penned a bridge across the void,
Each conversation, sparks that light the dark,
They navigate through cultures rich and strange,
An atlas drawn in ink of longing love.

At last, a day arrives, the paper falls,
Before a gathering of kindred souls—
An ancient rite, a promise carved in time,
Two hearts, now joined, beneath the endless sky.

And where the little hands reach forth with hope,
Their blessing woven in the tapestry,
The echoes of the past meet present joy,
In laughter, tears, and dreams yet to unfold.

The thread of destiny, so finely spun,
Becomes the fabric of their every day,
A journey shared, a lifetime yet to write,
In love’s embrace, forever intertwined.

In the quiet embrace of the vast sky,
A tapestry of white floats gently,
Puffs of vapor, soft as a whisper,
Beneath the sun's golden gaze, they linger.

Mists arise, ethereal and delicate,
Shaping and reshaping, a restless dance,
A blanket of dreams stretched across the blue,
Each fold a story, untold but felt.

Amidst the sky, a billow takes form,
A congregation of thoughts, light and heavy,
Swarming like ideas in the mind's eye,
Connecting, dispersing, then gathering again.

Thunderheads emerge, dark and powerful,
Foreboding yet beautiful in their grandeur,
A nebulous promise of rain to come,
Teasing the earth with a distant echo.

Cumulus clouds drift, sculpted by winds,
Gentle giants, casting shadows below,
They mirror our fleeting moments of joy,
A reminder of time, swiftly passing, yet still.

Each cloud a vessel of possibility,
Carrying whispers from far-off lands,
A gallery of shapes, unique and fleeting,
Chasing the light, forever changing.

In the soft twilight, they blush and fade,
Colors igniting the world in soft hues,
Mundane becomes magical in their presence,
Embracing the stillness of a moment held.

As night falls, they dissolve into dreams,
While stars peek through, twinkling like thoughts,
The clouds' memory lingers in our hearts,
An endless voyage through the infinite sky.