Her hair is lathered & twisted into the unicorn peak she likes.

I lean over, and she slaps the bathwater, giggling at my dripping face.
I mock-scowl and reach for the bright red bowl buoyed in the undulating foam.

We test the water from the tap before she leans her head back, her throat all a-glimmer,
her tiny shoulders perfectly round—I shield her eyes with one hand, pour with the other.
Later, a spiral of water at her feet, the clean girl floats, arms outstretched, embracing it all.  

Another cherita, using the same image I used for this one.