Dance For Him

Our arms brush as our paths cross in the kitchen and he softly swings me around. Embraces my waist and we dance. In the kitchen. My favorite place to dance.

My four year old chants: Get married.. get married.. get ..

We whisper: We are married.

He looking down at me. My eyelashes batting gently.. sincerely..

This time when we brush as we pass..

Maybe I'll swing him around.

Look him dead in the eye..

And dance for him.

Like an apple tree among the tress of the forest is my beloved among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste. ~ Song of Solomon 2:3

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