At first light, the sky turned a deep, endless blue and she lifted a small bouquet of white daisies, smiling into the day. Hand in hand, they ran toward the rim of the quiet lake, breath mixing with the hillside mist. When the sun climbed, soft rays spilled through the trees and they danced on the dew-silver grass—linen and lace catching the gold. There were no grand gestures, only easy laughter, warm foreheads, and the kind of looks that say “you’re my favorite place.” By the time the fog thinned, their footprints trailed behind them and the meadow kept the secret: two hearts choosing each other, again and again, in the gentle light of morning.
April 11, 2025