The Nameless Damsel of Grace

Four: Him

He walked to the forest a couple times a week. He liked the peace and quiet, liked to get lost to remember who he is. He would sit in the meadow, watch the stars before midnight. Listen to the quiet stream that sang nearby.

He fell asleep on an odd day, and woke to the sound of gentle footsteps dancing across his meadow. Hidden by the tall grass, he peeked around and saw her. As graceful as willow branches in the wind, as beautiful as a flower by any name.

Mesmerized, he watched her dance. Twirls and leaps, she was like a blade of grass that swayed in the breeze. The meadow was her dancefloor, her ballroom, her private place of beauty.

He looked above and noticed the stars glowing brighter than he had ever seen them, the moon nearly smiling as it watched her. She was the definition of grace, the meaning behind beauty, as she danced among the flowers and trees.

She danced nearly until dawn, he watched her as if hypnotized. She had simple clothes, her shirt ghostly as she twirled. He never saw her face, the moon casting shadows as if to hide her from him.

In a single night, he fell in love.