March 25, 2009
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Her hands dip gracefully and the rose colored nails brush against the hardwood floor.
They are lifted by the light touch of the man’s hands,
and he turns her as she spins on the tips of her toes, before swiveling into his arms.
For a moment, a quick tender moment,
They are both still.
Her head rests in the dip between his clavicle and neck.
His arms, appearing to be painted with gold satin and wrapped at the wrists by sheer chiffon,
snake around her abdomen and his hand settle on her heart.
Their body heaves together in one beat,
A piano’s crescendo savors the movement.
The fortissimo sound of a B flat separates both bodies.
Dramatically, she is snapped by his arms as they unravel from around her,
And she is winding across the floor with her nose in the air.
The perfect reflection of a small, rotating dancer in an opened jewelry box.
She pauses with her hand extended towards him, while the curve of her left foot,
Is motionless and points into the air,
while the toes on her right foot holds the little weight she contains.
He seems hesitant to respond to the game of flattery she is now playing.
His hands wave around his head,
Stressing the conflicted feelings that now consumes it.
She advances towards him slowly, her hands held in first position
Creating a circle with the perfect and flawless alignment of her body,
Her feet drag playfully on the ground and she settles in a firm arabesque penchée before him.
Now the challenge seems to be accepted.
His turn to move begins with the flutter of his legs, circling around her unfaltering position.
He grabs the small hand that seem to reach for the crimson curtain above their heads.
Their feet still in sync, walk across the stage as the beam of artificial light
create beads of sweat on their faces.
The duo briefly disappearing into stage left before the woman reappears,
And this time it seems she is floating.
Gravity no longer seems to be an issue.
The tutu around her waist changes from white to a peaceful shade of blue as the lights change.
There are claps from the audience as her neatly crafted pirouettes steal the show,
And her onstage lover gazes in awe at the splendor of her art.
She stops finally, the dancer unable to hide the proud smile on her face.
The audience’s hands stop when the man in tights runs to her side,
Circling her with his eyes, occasionally drawing the tips of his fingers across her neck
Then, with such ease and exceptional ability to seem as if time was frozen,
He spun mid air, gently falling unto his feet and bursting into a fit of changements,
His bare feet creating streaks of white above the ground.
The defeating challenge he offered her seemed to upset her,
And she walked away from him with her arms crossed against her chest.
The music teetered in the background, fading out with the violin.
He stepped towards her, wavering where he stood and then retreating back.
The music picked up a fast pace once again when she twirled where she stood,
His arms flung out, left and right, inviting her into them.
She dipped her head, a flash of the flowery hair clamp that held her hair up into a neat bun presented to the audience.
Her hands create the illusion of ripples in front of her as she succumbs to his invitation.
The listless legs that stem from her hips are divided in wide strides across the floor as she jumps into his arms,
Which immediately pull her up unto his wide shoulders and he holds her.
It’s simply beautiful.
While he turns slowly with her in his arms, she holds her arms at a precise ninety degree angle.
The trilling of the violin, along with the peaceful sounds of chimes, cues the end of the scene.
His hands move around her in one fluid movement.
Grabbing her torso and dipping her towards the ground.
There’s an uproar of applause as the light dims and the red curtains close in on the pair.

No words were had been uttered.
No signs to be read.
Love was portrayed by dance.

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