grace is not simply kindness
or smooth motions
inscribed with arms and legs
as the dancer flows across the floor

she constantly astounds me -
her heartbeat (which I am occasionally lucky enough to feel beneath my fingers) sending life pulsing through her veins,
her laughter (drawn by witty comments) causing my heart to race as well,
her cheeks which flush rose-petal pink when exhilaration sends lightning down her spine

grace can never be explained
or planned -
merely loved wholly or
not at all