To the rhythm

You stuck your finger in my palm
to test the water
Mocked my gait,
my smile, my thoughts
Hung framed pictures, threw down a rug,
rumbled your toes and asked for keys

I licked a spoon
fresh from a boiling pot of something
you'd prepared
kissed you gently, though you'd protest
assessed my own happiness and yours
and the shade of your eyes mid evening

I sighed to the rhythm of your temper
as the current exhausts at times
high tide in the late afternoon
when I'm brain dead
walled in and caged with expectations
when you're hungry
and won't eat

You laughed at the sound of my sigh
kissed me gently, though I'd protest
held my hips and washed the dishes
assessed your own happiness and mine
took down pictures and rearranged
molded to the rhythm of my day