Dewdrop On A Rose, by Archana Nagarajan

Summoning courage to express his love, Mist descended upon the garden mere moments before daybreak. There she was, Rose, in her quiet corner, a flower among flowers. Stealing up on her, Mist gave her a quick kiss. Rose blushed red. Then she kissed him back warmly. Mist sighed and condensed, content to be, forever, a dewdrop upon her satin folds. But dawn broke and the morning sun rose hotly over the mountains. Mist evaporated. Rose cried herself red. Silly girl, she didn’t know that Mist wasn’t gone. He had simply changed form. To return another night.