Meet in the middle
Swirling each other
Two birds earning their wings.
The light somehow always beaming behind
Silhouettes now etched to memory.
Core.
Fingertips trailing my back
From one wrist, across the arms, down the elbow,
I lean in.
Rather than stop, or a crowd pleasing dip
You’ve waltzed away from the two step.
When did the time signature change?
Your left, and mine, we pass and part
Leading, you are no longer
Transition to a solo performance.
Leaving the floor, we exhale focused breath.
Shoulders still back,
Heads high - not subconscious.
Left, right, intertwined;
Now learning that even the steps backward,
Apart,
Are all beauty within the dance.