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I love to watch her dance.

Because when she dances, I like to believe that she dances for me.

Her becomes liquid with every twist, turn and leap she finishes. Her almond eyes narrowed, her shoulders tense and hands as delicate as a leaf.

I watch her leap.

I watch her twirl.

I’m captivated. Spellbound.

She’s beautiful.

She’s breathtaking.

She’s elegance.

She’s allure.

But when the music stops; her body gets stiff and she’s back to reality. She glances up at the rafters then off to center stage.

Her hopes and dreams are dwarfed.

The beauty fades and my dancer evaporates into the shadows.

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