The Dancer

It was her poise and grace that set her apart; a gentle rhythmic walk. Soft velvet tones of gracefulness as she talked. Her voice danced as she spoke. Her eyes glistened in animated interest as she listened, focused, undeviating from the intense conversation she was involved in. Expressive, long-fingered hands. Gesticulating with the ebb and flow of torrid words. Stopping only to smooth a straying hair back to perfection. Interjection of soft salsa verbal rocking, picking up the tempo to tangoed crescendo, waltzing in three time, quick stepping to conversational conclusion. As she stood to leave, long legs unravelled, rising to pose in balletic stance, her bar a chair back, a smile, a graceful backward glance.... Drifting on a cloud of chiffon she floats away. Willowy limbs carrying her noiselessly, stunning her audience as heads all crane to admire her as she leaves. Always a dancer. Her life her stage. Carefully choreographed. Her earthly progress mapped in song and dance on every page of score and libretto.... Disciplined. Majestic movement from head to tiny tapped toe. Always a dancer. Applaud her as she goes.