Through the wide open windows.

The curtains are thrown about in the storm.

The rain and hail hits the cold stone floor all too fast

For the Princess' gentle dance across the room.

She waltzes by herself, humming a song of Spring.

Her deep black hair is tossed like the curtains in the wind.

She spins thrice, slowly,

Takes three steps towards the window.

Lowers her body to the wet floor.

And leaps, and land, and slips.

And falls.