The young admirer and the old dancer.

Dance for me
his young eyes asked
for black hair
a red rose 
behind the ear
a red mantilla
over one shoulder.

She reached for her make-up
dipped her cheeks
rubbed the lips blood red
tore open her blouse three buttons
to see the first glimpse
of a curvature
the skinny arms raised
she took the stand of the fandango.

Am I so old as I am,
she sighed
let her arms drop again
shook the head.

My heart can't dance anymore, my dear,

She buttoned her blouse again.