The Mystical Unicorn

We walked in a forest dark and dense,
holding tight each other’s hands.
A day went by, something we could sense.
‘Twas a unicorn in nearby lands,
possessing wings and mystical fangs.

My comrade grew happy, towards it went,
Squinted his eyes to clearly see.
For the unicorn had a horn that nicely bent,
a horn that seemed like a tall but broken tree.
Anyhow, it roamed wild and free.

We observed the sight for a few hours,
and then my chum took out his phone.
A picture he’d wanted to click, no farce;
but the unicorn turned into a drone!
The picture so is now just thrown.

‘Was that unicorn really real?’ I asked him
as we met a week later to restfully confab.
He looked at me and suddenly turned grim;
said I would have to pick up the tab.
The unicorn was costed, made in a lab!

‘What?’ I spluttered even as he was looking with glee.
‘Pay ten million pounds,’ he said thereupon, ‘or just simply flee.’

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