The shore and the strand,

Sea foam, fog, and rolling wind.

Rushing in the dark.

Washed in red and white,

Painted perfect by the shore.

Best picture I have.

Cottage on the beach,

Rolling waves sush in the dark,

To the third story.

San Diego hills,

Looming through the fog and mist,

Brightness to the sea.

Rolling hills of sand,

They make themselves adjacent,

Rows of campers sleep.

Born of dragon blood,

Magic elves of Arrenal,

Now seer through time.

All wrapped in metal,

Bright delights without of it,

Golden light within.

Falling on the field,

But never in his duty;

An iron resolve.

Slayer of rat men,

True Knight Hospitalier,

Lost to the mountain.

Praise be victories,

For which labour fought and died.

True May Day spirit.