She moves with the wind, dancing on the dew drops ever so exquisitely. Laughter bubbles to her soft pink lips, pure bliss as the grass tickles her toes. Skating across the lake surface, a smile etches itself on her porcelain face. Golden locks, tangles of honey curls, play victim to the gale, breeze-tossed to and fro. Her eyes glimmer an emerald green, the color of the surrounding forest.

The birds' chirps are humble melodies she twists her body to, barefoot on the grove floor. Resting on her frail shoulders and swaying at her thighs is a light fabric, gossamer white. The dress is but a simple garb, the snow color melting into her skin perfectly. Her face is flawless, a beautiful nymph.

A spirit of innocence, she dances on, celebrating life and love.