Nachtmusik

A little sugared egg
The taxi at the curb
A scrabble through a pocketbook
A short sans-serif blurb

Two hours' operetta
Then an unlit April street
And my silent love comes dancing
On his little silent feet

And he had a faceless face
But I thought he had warm hands;
When the streetlights came they glittered
Like silver sands.

My sweater settled on my shoulders
Like my true love's breath
In the window of the subway
Comes my face as bright as death.