Mirrored
I came to her one night
like she came to me
softly and with a whisper
she said she had
a three-year-old daughter
at home.
The dining porch was a stage
where we lost ourselves in song
the backdrop blue and red neon lights
outside a one-way street
streaked with taillights.
Time and time she’d
go upstairs where others dance,
but she kept coming back to me.
We held hands; warmth of her touch
flowed into me. She watched and cheered
when it was my turn to sing.
I did the same for her,
a spell shared by friends
as the night glistened a dream.
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