Lady and the Unicorn

In a dark autumn wood,
the winding tower stands,
surrounded by a gate,
the latch within her hands.
The blood-red dying leaves,
falling at her feet,
kneeling at her presence,
the muse he bows to greet.

So long I have waited,
for one to set me free;
now the gate is open,
and my heart belongs to thee.

She opens the tower gate,
yet still he only bows,
she whispers to him freedom,
caressing his soft brow.
He stands before her silent,
stands and does not flee;
he whispers back so softly,
to the one who holds the key.

So long I have waited,
for one to set me free;
now the gate is open,
and my heart belongs to thee.

By the great stone hearth,
this tapestry still waves;
by the breeze through the window,
singing stories of their days.
Blood-red woven threads
tell a tale of the heart,
of ageless woodland lovers,
that time could never part.

When he wanders in the forests,
in time his true heart yearns,
through the gate that’s still wide open,
to the tower he returns.
She opens up the window,
and far below he bows;
the spiral of their journey,
is the sign upon his brow,

So long I have waited,
For one to set me free;
now the gate is open,
and my heart belongs to thee