It’s heat.

Like those hot summer days…

When you were a little child,

And filled the $4.67 pool

With ice cubes and

Danced in them.

That relief feeling.

That you’ve finally satisfied something

That’s been meaning to be done so.

For quite awhile.

The release.

Of what you’ve wanted to make tangible

For oh-who-knows how long.

You’re pent-up;

So pent-it-out.

She’s nervous.

"Am I suppose to be;

Disgusted at myself;

Or joyful at these changes?"

He’s knowing.

He’s been waiting;

Watching.

"He knows."

She can feel it.

So take that first,

Awkward; lovely jump.

And he honestly spreads

His fingers cross her stomach;

Because in a way;

It’s his too.

"So I guess

That makes it

Okay."

You can’t guess in this game;

Little girl.

It could lead to a matter

You’ll need to deal with.

Thoughts are jumping.

Like all the stories say;

Say how it’s exactly going to be?

Well, yes; unfortunately true.

It is.

Exactly.

Perfect.