My girl’s frown used to confound.

It was not reflecting disapproval or continence sad.

It was her devoted determination to be prepared for roils within.

She draws herself close and we wrap loosely tight. Crooning soft and dissociativly lyrical tones.

It starts with her one small peep.

Soon, her gasps float around making a heady atmosphere of wafts.

That is the time of her inner resolve, so she pushes away. Time to cool down.

I am content to abide in her measured consent.

Hours may we play the dance of warm then cool. Relaxing and intent her joys reflect like a pool.