My father was a unicorn
my mother a red rose,
then I (the little one) was born
with an exquisite nose.

I love the scent of anemones
though orchids leave me cold,
my skin was soaked with pheromones
but now I'm simply old.

Remembering the unicorn
who loved his little rose,
they cultivated one small thorn
in poetry and prose.

As mother finally fell ill
I was a tiny tot,
she called me 'little Daffodil',
though Daffodil I'm not.

The fever turned her petals black
and, dying, she called out:
'if there is one thing that you lack
it is your father's clout.'

The moment mother passed away
I groomed my dainty nose,
to make a bigger passageway
and please my mother Rose.

The genes however had me pinned
so I ignored her scorn
my looks had changed but when I grinned
I was no unicorn.

Herbert Nehrlich

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-father-was-a-unicorn/