Spotted mushroom.

Where the damp greenery settled low,  the fungicides they dwell and shroon 
In the mystique quarters of the avid darkness,  before the coming moon, what a delicate spotted mushroom to sit so oddly by, Beneath a blanket of painted stars that captivate the sky, Had not a eye between the shimmering glanced below so as to see, the underfoot containing such a delicate glee, trodden in the muck of footprints where shrooning comes the wildest end, not a bother to the star's 
Nor claimed the moon a friend 
Although they had no moment to shine, May have reached an end display, once the light of heavens comes, and represents the day, oh mushrooms hold the fairy kind 
And within the starlight coat in dust, where we tred more carefully we seek to find their trust, but heavy footed,  claims to bare the ending of a blissful state,  and undertow of fungi then would turn a hand of fate.