The Visitor

The faintly dim eyes, the smooth complexion, the enroaching shadow

''that clouded his appearence, unseen. ''

A gaze that could sprout danger, eager death

''could befall. Nothing but quiet resolve. ''

A swordsman, the way that his blade hanged by the hips, 

reserved in the sheath for the worthy, 

''was often seduced by petty showoffs and clowns. ''

They were scorned and insulted

''that often led to an attack, two strikes, and fall. ''

It does not come from the sword but rather his hand, 

open and with a broad stroke of an artist, easily done, 

"Who can I find with sheer willpower and skill?"

''aloud he inquired to all. ''

A photo popped up from the shadows of a merchant, 

''frailed hands, nerving worry. ''

The wanderer eased his hands, took the photo 

''of this person, glazing his eyes on the image. ''

''Circular eyes, purple coat, a black blade. ''

''The warrior smiled, and vanished into the horizon. ''