Summary: A fictional adult dances alone after coming in from the rain. Mismatched socks and a missed step become a small private joke, followed by contented quiet. No private or autobiographical event is asserted.

I kicked my shoes beneath the hallway chair,
And shook the rain out of my tangled hair.
One sock was red, the other faded blue;
I turned the dial and let a drumbeat through.

Two different socks, a crooked spin,
A laugh that lets the evening in.
No crowd to please, no perfect way to land;
Just me and the rhythm, hand in hand.

My heel went left, my shoulder wandered right;
I laughed and let them argue through the night.
The tune ran out; the room was still my own.
I liked the way it felt to be alone.

Two different socks, a crooked spin,
A laugh that lets the evening in.
No crowd to please, no perfect way to land;
Just me and the rhythm, hand in hand.