Dancer

She was magic in action, poetry given form, dancing in the pale light. A swirl of veils, a flick of her tail, the perfect gracefulness of powerful feline muscles under her silken fur. I was in love, yes. Lust too.

After the show, I pushed my way backstage, past the others and their flowers, only to be stopped by the massive form of her bodyguard.

"I must see her! I'm in love!"

"Back off. No exceptions."

I waited outside, in the alley, chasing away a wino. Hours passed, then the back door opened.

Behind the bodyguard was a figure in a hood. I waited until the brute passed, then grabbed her arm. "My lady...please, I mean you no harm, I..." My voice tailed off as she pulled back her hood, revealing the greyfurred face of an old woman.

"B-But..." I stammered.

"I am old," she said. "But when I dance, I am young. I wish you did not have to see me like this. Now go, please."

"But I love you!"

And she let me stay. If this were a fairy tale, my love would have made her young again. But it isn't. But we did stay together for many years.

"When I dance, I am young. I will dance until I die. I will dance forever."

And she did. She's passed on now, but she still dances in my mind.

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