She is my spring.
Her hair is the golden sunshine. It falls over my shoulder and tickles my neck as I hold her.
She pulls away to look at me, her eyes the sparkling blue of a spring sky.
I smile at her and she smiles back, a beautiful smile that melts me like the midday sun on a snowy field.
I tickle her sides, and she giggles. The sound is a music that rushes over me, as refreshing as the cool breeze.
She is my spring. My love for her is the warmth that chases away the cold.
She is my spring. She is the embodiment of the beginning of life, warmth, happiness.
She is my spring. She is my daughter. And she looks just like her mother.