her dancing

the woman who lives
above you
in apartment
3 G likes to dance
late at night
in her stocking feet.
you hear her
as you lie in bed
staring at the ceiling,
her feet moving
gently across
the hardwood floors,
a jump and twist,
a turn perhaps
and leap
onto the soft throw
rugs, then off
again. and when you
see her on the elevator
the next morning,
going to work,
you smile and say
hello. you don't
mention to her
the dancing.
you don't want
things to end
that way.