Elise
by Henry Bertheaud

Golden lights,
a cool atmosphere,
light jazz and lighter
conversation.
Strangely enough
I went to dance,
and I knew the steps.
Stranger still
my partner spoke
of a dream I once had.
A dream of myself
and my life.
Perfect.
She leads through
(my dream of course)
and I follow,
dancing still.
Dancing across my
lawn
on top of my
roof.
Until she needs to
rest.
I offer,
as one should,
to carry
her
back to the party,
and the golden lights.