Those late nights that she listened to you.Somehow it seemed like you just always were the sweet smiling grey haired dear old lady.
Were you really young like her?
Her young dark eyes shone in the darkness of the night. "Why didn't you give me your honey flecked eyes?", she said with a slight pout.
You laughed kindly. You knew you had given her the music. That was you when she danced with such passion and joy. You knew that, didn't you?

She doesn't dance anymore. Not like she once did. You took that rhythm with you.