He is watching me.
I can see his eyes.
Blue,
Like a stormy night on a foggy port.
How silver is his horn,
A spiral,
Twisting,
Turning,
Winding its way to a peak,
Reaching for Heaven.
His mane blows freely in this night's air,
Catching the faintest breeze.
A stance he is in that says,"What do you see?"
I reply,"A unicorn."
© Maggie McCoy
Original poetry is copyrighted by author and displayed here with her permission.
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None of these images were created by me, but were found on other unicorn site. If you see an image that was orginally made by you or copyrighted from someone else, please send me email so that I can give proper credit to the original creators or remove the graphics from my site. Thank you. |
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© 2000 Terri H