These Legs

I'm old now. My legs are heavy and swollen and I wobble when I walk. The world appears foggy and dull as my eyes struggle to focus. But, in the long hours that I sit by myself, my brain entertains me with my own personal movie show. Vivid and glorious reminders of the tenacity of my youth invoking a mixture of emotions as I remember the power I once had.

The opening scene... I'm standing at the bar. The camera dips to my delicate ankles and shapely calves, perfectly displayed in a pair of heels and a soft curtain of skirt hinting at what lies beneath. I am fully aware of my sexuality and sensuality.

I'm dancing now. My legs are strong. Their movement creates a swish of my skirt and a wiggle of my hips. I'm confident and carefree, not meaning to be provocative but I am attracting attention and I feel powerful.

I feel the warmth and slight roughness of a male hand on my knee. I have a twitch of vulnerability and a surge of excitement and anticipation... I'm climbing the stairs allowing my admirer a glimpse of a silk stocking-clad thigh.

Final scene. Pulses racing. My strong legs are wrapped around my lover.

These legs still feel the warmth of a masculine hand now and again. The chiropodist, the district nurse, the paramedics. They have no inkling of the power they once had over the opposite sex as they help me into my wheelchair and fasten my ghastly Velcro slippers