The house was dark. The stage was bare
Of everything but light and air,
And I was pottering in the wings,
Doing unnecessary things
Because, although this may sound tragic,
An empty theatre’s full of magic –
And, QED, the boy was there.
He wasn’t dancing for applause
But pure and simply for delight.
He danced that afternoon because
He couldn’t dance that way at night:
Dazzling technique and lyric line,
Each step more human than divine,
An hour of joy without a pause.
And when he stopped and walked offstage
And found me worshipping him there,
He shrugged and wiped his sweaty face
And walked away without a care,
Leaving the stage an empty space
Where he had cast his spell, now bare,
Fairydust hanging in dead air.