There she was, once again she walked across the room gracefully, obviously not noticing poor Hamlet. "How can I get Ophelia to notice me?" Hamlet whispered to himself. He had loved Ophelia admiring her from afar, never able to truly express the extent of his love for her. He turned away, and to think he should have been enjoying himself on such a royal occasion. The annual festival celebrating his father winning boundless amounts of land for Denmark was a rare occasion, but every year felt the same. Ophelia would always drift toward other more attractive men, and Hamlet would be left, cut off from the love of his life.
The way she moved was like a slow song upon a piano, soft and painful at moments, and uplifting and beautiful in others. "I will not let her slip away," Hamlet thought to himself. He knew that is he wanted to gain Ophelia's love he had to act before it was too late. The song by the band suddenly changed into a chorus of upbeat notes that fluttered across the room. He knew that this would be his only chance to dance with the woman of his dreams.
Hamlet raced down the balcony onto the ball room floor and approached Ophelia. She glanced into his eyes and suddenly his heart began to melt. "My lady, I would be honored to have this dance with you," he said with a smile stretched across his heart. Ophelia blushed, and with a flood of confidence Hamlet carried her to the dancefloor. His moves were fast on the grounds of the castle, as his arms and legs glided effortlessly to the flow of the music. They dance all night and Ophelia soon was covered by his passion and amazing calmness. She brushed her hand across his cheek and whispered, "Forgive me for not seeing you tonight." Hamlet looked deep within himself, and mustered up his strength. With a kiss on the cheek goodnight he whispered, "Ophelia, thank you... for not looking on me with your eyes, but for looking on me with your heart."
