the shadows slide around your form,
the tree outside the window
stoccato streelight trickling through
its midnight branches.
I can see you dancing in the half-light
shoulders dip with the warm breeze
through the open curtains,
tiptoes on the carpet of your room,
I can see you dancing across my dreams,
where I make music from your smile,
a pacific, half-lidded comfort,
from which I awake,
in the morning,
to get ready for school,
to sit behind you in class,
and you still not knowing my name.