Portrait of a Falling Dancer

She even falls with grace. By far; her most admirable quality is that: she falls with grace.

And maybe she falls more frequently than most, but the fault is not hers.

Perhaps it is the fault of the stair for being imperfect. Uneven stone steps covered with dirt weren't made for feet like hers, feet that brush so lightly on the surface.

Perhaps it is the fault of the jealous wind. Furious breezes attempt to sway her and take grace away; but grace doesn't fall from her.

Or perhaps it is my fault, for willing it to happen,

Because I am imperfect.

And I am jealous.

And she...

She even falls with grace.