The Wooden King

Crown of moss upon an oaken head,

Streaks of starlight woven in a thread.

Darkness engulfs his city of thieves,

Soon he too shall bear blood red leaves.

Like an age old elm tree, roots he shall sprout,

Turned into a mighty tree preserved even from drought.

The Wooden King shall pay for his ghastly sins,

For in the end Karma always wins.

The Indigo Spell

Intricately woven on sunlit trees,

Dancing on the backs of a lonely breeze.

Mesmerizing; this petalled enchantress,

Kiss of Death, Indigo temptress.

For a glance may not harm or kill its admirer,

But a single touch will render it a violet terror.

Cherish it from afar to elude its lilac blade,

Looks can be deceiving, deadly Nightshade.