Valley of Imaginings

Valley of Imaginings

Upon my field of fantasies,
all green and gold and white,
glimpses only of sweet creatures
are seen in soft twilight.

Above the nearly sleeping world,
a star is shining soft.
A wing-tip darts beside my eyes,
a faery flies aloft.

Upon the rolling, blooming plains,
a noble centaur runs.
He is most ancient and most wise
and, galloping, seems to drum.

Through a secret, winding valley,
a river runs to sea,
where prism people make their homes
to revel and feast with glee.

Within this twilit world of fancy,
a wood grows near the stream.
I see a movement in the trees,
and nymphs begin to sing.

Among these ferns and spritely trees,
with pointed caps and beards,
they walk and whistle jaunty tunes,
for gnomes are not a-feared.

Along the hidden, moonlit path,
delicate hooves do tread.
With purple horn and kindly eyes
a unicorn seeks his bed.

Upon my field of fantasies
a castle rests by sea.
A noble King with flowing beard
Rules humbly, kind, and wise.

I found the picture here. I don’t know who the artist is.


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