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.