Spiders sing lullabies to their prey against the silence of the night-
When I was eight my great grandmother crochet a black web of a
shawl for me.
Webbed patterns on water, remind me of
broken mirrors and how promises made in childhood
shatter easily.
Spiders hide in the sweet smell of words and flowers
Don't stand in the dark shadows of trees,
to see the last rays of sunlight.
No comments:
Post a Comment