Lisa Kaye Robison

1968 – 2021
Dreaming the Unicorn
Where fancy’s flowers bloom, I go,
and music starts to play.
And when sweet words of beauty flow,
I dip and weave and sway. . .
There comes a white horse, my delight,
so I’ll not be forlorn.
In step with him, I freely write!
I dream the unicorn.