Phillippa Harris - Self

I see when I close my mind, the happiness in the green field.
The dark wood laying way to dragons and giants.
The clouds, pockets of darkness for which there is little shelter.
The tree keeps me safe.
He tells me of old times when the legions would camp at the nearby stream waiting to go to war.
He is my home, my shelter.
The white unicorn that has befriended me approaches and enters my world.
I speak to glints of light on leaves as though they were fairies.
My imagination is grounded there. It is her home, but there she sleeps.

Phillippa Harris

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/self-20/