The Dance

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The tavern owner nearly lost his voice trying to empty out his establishment. It was the early morning hours - before the sun rises in the valley, after most have gone to sleep with its setting. The travelling musicians had turned out such a crowd! Wonderful music, he had to admit. The kind that made everyone want to dance.
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There was one couple in particular though…gypsies themselves, I’m sure of it…who stole my eyes, their presence was so strong. It went beyond anything I would call mere dancing. Of course, who am I but an observer, an old man still in love with beauty? It seemed evident to me though that the more the couple danced, the more fervent their desire to abide to the movement of their bodies. Their tango was particularly sensuous.
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Now, don’t get me wrong. There was nothing explicit or unacceptable about their movements. It was…oh, how to describe such synchronicity? It was their touch, at times gentle yet at others so clearly defined and necessary. There was something else though. What was it, now... .
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It was how they looked at one another. Yes, I’m certain of it now! It was indeed their gaze that had me yearning to be in their midst, in their world, so mysterious to un hombre viejo who has only once in his whole life travelled beyond this valley.
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I later learned that once we had all left the Inn that night, the couple continued their sinuous tango into the street, one of the musicians having stayed behind. With only the light of the moon to go by -the owner by then having turned off the lamps, including those in the alley- the violin played on and on for the two lovers in the lane.