She looks at her reflection,
dimly gleaming in the mud,
and hopes,
wishes,
that her pale face remains.

He looks at her reflection,
shining proudly in the glass,
her red umbrella held above her,
and hopes,
fears,
that she might see him across the way.
His had tucked low in the rain,
he ducks away.

She hides her doubts behind a smile,
her reflection left behind,
her red umbrella held above her,
she hopes,
dreams,
that she might yet be wet again,
that rain and mud might find her hiding
bring her courage from the puddle, commit her fears to earth again.

He finds his guilt beneath his hat,
sopping wet and drooping low,
and hopes,
begs,
that one day he might find courage there.
He regrets his past transgressions.
Looking back, he sees no red.

She looks at her reflection,
caked in mud and doubt,
and hopes,
wishes,
that he may see his courage there,
beneath the red umbrella,
the rain falling on each side,
that he might keep his guilt beneath his hat,
and see her, dry, across the way,
that he might see her in the glass,
proud,
strong,
and that he might just duck away.