He gave her silk, and the tender body of a solitary jasmine,
For it was customary to present beauty with beauty.
He was simple, and simply in love with a treasure
Immeasurably fair to his eye.

"It is not good enough," he muttered to the air,
for it was the only being there who would not betray his fear.
The silk dampened in prints beneath his fingers.
The little village slept as he stepped unobtrusively
Along the sandy way.

"Clothed in naught but rags and grime,
even then she could out-shine
this paltry gift of mine.
I am hapless as a star without its sheen.
Alas, I shall be as a pane of glass
Looked through but never seen."

"But I must try,
for who can see inside another's mind?
And in a form that is so fair how could there
Be anything but empathy to find?"

He stepped with care,
so as not to stir a lash upon a sleeping eye.
He was as quiet as a stalking cat
A shadow 'neath the moonlit sky.
He approached her tent in silence,
As sunlight through a cloud.
A boy with thoughts of joy
And a jasmine on a shroud.