Walking through the forest
On the spring morning
I almost expect to see
The silvery-white mane
Of the mystical unicorn
Poke it's beautiful head
Out of the bushes where it's feeds
The morning is magical
I can practically hear
The sweet bell-like voices
Of the faeries and the pixies
Weaving their way between the trees
I can feel the bashful eyes of the dryads
Upon my back as I walk deeper
Lost in my fantasies
I didn't realize
That I was the only one singing
The creature watching me shyly was a tiny doe
The rest was simply whimsy
Daydreams floating through my mind.