My little love is a jellyfish. Her tentacles pull on my hair. I hug her so tightly and softly (I try), though she wriggles and stings me with care.
My little love is a megaphone. I whisper encouraging words. She responds with excitement, drum-breaking in volume; she cleans all the trees of their birds.
My little love is a carousel. I call out my rules round by round. She listens in glimpses, she watches the colors, she glides and she leaps up and down.
My little love is a billy goat. I call her with wide open arms. She comes in with force, rams my face with a jolt, a signal of love, not of harm.
My little love is made up of power, a passion of predator pace. But if you look just past her fiery eyes, you will see how much love lights her face.