Dare

This is where he sees her
for the first time,
in the front hall of his fraternity house
as she adjusts her corsage
in the large mirror by the map of Spain.

He doesn’t dare speak to her.

She doesn’t dare let on
that she saw him spellbound in the mirror.

This where she sees him again,
years later,
outside a theater,
hailing a cab.

Through the late November snow
she sees the recognition in his face
though his hand remains in the air,
as she walks toward him,
in her black raincoat.

He looks past her,
down Broadway,
as she passes him,
and turns her head away.

Copyright Kay Winter