"Mist enveloped grove of stars
Spectral shrine of lost memoirs.
A place were few have ever tread.
World reserved for honored dead.

Scent of lilies' fragile essence.
Leaves of gentle iridescence.
Frost-kissed pond, forever still
The sacred garden of Fate's will."

I'm a fiction writer at heart. I love telling stories, and despite my best efforts at the beginning, I somehow keep ending up back along this road with my recent poetry attempts.

This is the first verse of what I've loosely dubbed "The Legend of the Argent Vagabond". I expect there'll be more to this at some point, though I have no idea how soon or how much will come of this random spark. This was fun though, I definitely want to see this continue.

Thanks for reading. :D