The Mirror

If a writer wove

Some words together,

Whether real or make believe,

That made you squeeze your knees

And feather,

Sweet thoughts and memories,

That brought to mind the crazy times

You danced naked in the mirror,

Unaware of the neighbor’s kid

Mouth opened,

All aquiver.

If a writer rolled

Some lines of love,

The kind you could retrieve,

Would you ever know

The rhymes conceived

By  you dancing in

The mirror.

Stephen Nesbitt ©