My father was a unicorn <br />my mother a red rose, <br />then I (the little one) was born <br />with an exquisite nose. <br /> <br />I love the scent of anemones <br />though orchids leave me cold, <br />my skin was soaked with pheromones <br />but now I'm simply old. <br /> <br />Remembering the unicorn <br />who loved his little rose, <br />they cultivated one small thorn <br />in poetry and prose. <br /> <br />As mother finally fell ill <br />I was a tiny tot, <br />she called me 'little Daffodil', <br />though Daffodil I'm not. <br /> <br />The fever turned her petals black <br />and, dying, she called out: <br />'if there is one thing that you lack <br />it is your father's clout.' <br /> <br />The moment mother passed away <br />I groomed my dainty nose, <br />to make a bigger passageway <br />and please my mother Rose. <br /> <br />The genes however had me pinned <br />so I ignored her scorn <br />my looks had changed but when I grinned <br />I was no unicorn.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-father-was-a-unicorn/
