Vickie Moore

The Unicorn

 
 
He stood there in the morning light and watched me for awhile,
then, stomped a hoof and shook his head and spoke to me with a smile.
 
"you don't believe in horses with coats of crimson red,
that I can talk to you much less have a horn upon my head.
 
I realize, by the look in your eyes, your doubting all you see.
Listen well, to the tale I tell and soon you will believe.
 
Though gentle creature that I am, I once ruled the forest green.
Where song birds sang and clear brooks ran and the air was fresh and clean.
 
I have waded through the golden falls where the sad moon cries her tears.
Where dreams grow wild and starlight falls and reality disappears.
 
I have gazed upon the firelight of elves and wizards and kings.
I am the ghost of the night, the poets elusive dream.
 
I am the childrens make believe. I am fantasy's flowing pen.
The untold mystery. The dream that time began."
 
With these words he turned away and faded into the trees.
The last words I heard him say..."Remember me in your dreams.
 
Sing songs of me lest I disappear and fantasy's all die.
Tell them all that I've you here... for the Unicorn am I."
By Vickie Moore
December 1981

 

All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Vickie Moore.
Published on e-Stories.org on 28.10.2009.

 

Līautore

 

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