Oil on canvas, approximately 12” × 16”, plus frame.

A young woman stands quietly with a single feather held in her hands. It may have fallen from the boa she wore to a ball the night before; an evening of music, candlelight, whispered conversation and the strange, sudden feeling that life has changed forever. Perhaps it was there that she met her true love; perhaps the feather is the only physical trace left from a night that now seems almost dreamlike.

There is a stillness about her, but it is not sadness. She appears inward, absorbed in memory, holding the feather as though it were a keepsake, a token of enchantment. The softness of the painting reflects the delicacy of the moment: the pale skin, the muted dress, the lowered gaze, the quiet weightlessness of first love.

Her heart is as light as the feather in her hands.