The obsidian sky blocked the moonlight,
Ebony trees looked like gnarled hands of hags,
Heather owls hooted a chilling tune
To warn travelers of what lurks in the clouded depths of the forest.
Lilacs and sables line the pathway.
Midnight skies linger
Fighting the lavender sky that dawn breaks.
Travelers, be wary,
For the raven may block the iris,
Or eat the eggplant,
Or steal the plum.
Listen to the chilling tune of the heather owls
And follow the lilac and sable pathway
Out of the gnarled, ebony hands of hags
And into the obsidian blanket
That engulfs the mauve moors.