Mushroom Stories

This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.So bright the birch leaves on my lawn,So soft their drift in weak sun's blaze;A spark of flame on Autumn's breath,Now damping down with faerie glaze.I scuff my boots through pixie tracks(The little gits keep sneaking throughMy lovely lawn, all dew-bejewelled;I wish they wouldn't, but they do).Behold! What's this? A mushroom huge...

In a little town, there lived many small goats. Each goat recieved a fashionable mushroom hat at birth and a small satchel in which to hold any articles that they may collect during their life. However, Bud the Goat did not have a hat, and no-one knew the reason for this.  Though this was no fault of his own, Bud was banned from attending the mushroom hat weekly meeting. One day, while the rest of the goats huddled in the...