In her slow spirals I am now made whole.

I swirl, curl, and then stretch myself out,
To twist, then wrestle and wrap all about;
Then I twirl, unfurl, to slip and slide after,
In long spirals, that cycle, in sensual ardour.

In her fresh revolution, I am now enclosed,
To roll and then swerve in our free-fervour;
Where wandering, emerging is now disclosed,
To rummage and grapple in our sweet labour.

And I enter a place where I am far from alone,
Here I am brought forth: just glowing, reborn.
For in her softness I reach and now do I grow,
While In her slow spirals I am now made whole.