Night ~ Mare Fairytales

My young one is strange
As strange as a unicorn can be
He only wants to hear scary stories
Before we sleep under the trees

The herd explains that it's a phase
That all young ones have

This month in particular
The Harvest Moon is bright and round
And he wants stories about the creatures
He sees on the ground

Over the hill
We can see them work
And toil in the sun
The ones that don't play or try to have fun

The stories aren't scary in nature
They're about the world those humans believe

That magic can only appear on a page
And that you have no business dreaming
Once you've reached a certain age

The world would just as soon be pleased
If they put all childhood things away
Humans have no use for: fairytales, daydreams, or spells
You see, they prefer to let magic decay

My colt says he'll change it
That he'll run past the hill
And wake the fools from their daze

He'll tell them all
That we magic folk
Could be friends

As his mother, I should probably say
How impossible that dream may very well be
But what kind of a mare would I be
If I didn't let my own colt hold onto belief

art, baby, and creature image